
w^Mmmmsamsi 



OR HOW T Q REACH 1 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Shelf .......... 



-V5 



UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. 




ELIAS HOWE, Jr. 



ROOM AT THE TOP: 



OR, HOW TO REACH 



Success, Happiness 

Fame and Fortune. 



WITH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF SUCCESSFUL, SELF-MADE MEN, 
WHO HAVE RISEN FROM OBSCURITY TO FAME, INCLUDING 



GEN. JAS. A. GARFIELD, 
ELIHU B. WASHBURNE, DWIGHT L. MOODY. 

CORNELIUS VANDERBILT, GEORGE PEABODY, 

ROBERT FULTON, ELI AS HOWE, Jr., 

HIRAM POWERS, JAY GOULD, 

THURLOW WEED. 



WITH TEN PORTRAITS ; ALSO RULES FOR BEHAVIOR 
IN SOCIETY. 



y> 



BY A*. CRAIG. 
»' 

AUGUSTA, MAINE? '^ ( 
TRUE & CO. 






Copyright, 
By True & Cosipany. 



PREFACE. 



OOM AT THE TOP— always room there. 
Life has been likened to a ladder, the top 
round of which many people find it difficult 
to reach, some making but few steps upward, and 
others becoming disheartened when almost at the top. 

The aim of this book is 'to set forth in plain, prac- 
tical words, the best and truest course to pursue to 
reach the highest aims and end of life — Success, 
Happiness, Fame and Fortune. 

To the young man starting out in life, who faithfully 
follows its teachings, it will act as a counselor, guide 
and friend. 

The Biographical Sketches will show him what self- 
taught, hard-working, earnest men have accomplished, 
and act as an incentive to perseverance and deter- 
mination in the effort to conquer all obstacles. 

The Rule for Behavior will help him to acquire 
that gentlemanly deportment and politeness which 
tend to grace a man's intercourse with those with 
whom he is associated. 

The selections have been culled from the works of 
well-known writers, whom opinions and authority upon 
such subjects are of great value and interest. 

That many young men may find this little work of 
great service to them in their laudable efforts to suc- 
ceed in life, is the sincere desire of 

THE AUTHOR. 

Chigaco, 18S2. 



PORTRAITS. 



ELIHU B. WASHBURNE. 
DWIGHT LYMAN MOODY. 
GEORGE PEABODY. 
CORNELIUS VANDERBILT. 
ROBERT FULTON. 
GEN. JAS. A. GARFIELD 
ELIAS HOWE. 
HIRAM POWERS. 
JAY GOULD. 
THURLOW WEED. 



CONTENTS. 



Success and Happiness . 
The Beginning of Life 
Begin Well 
What To Do 
What Am I Fit For 
Resistance to Temptation . 
A High Standard Necessary 
All Honest Industry Honorable 
Money-Making 
The Love of Money 
Riches No Proof of Worth 
Evils of Self-indulgence 
Power of Money Over-Estimated 
Failure of Rich Men's Sons 
True Respectability . 
Living Too High . 
Application and Perseverance . 
Sedulity and Diligence 
Good Counsel . . . . 



FAGS 
14 
16 
19 

20 

24 

33 
37 
3$ 
39 
43 
44 
46 

47 
4S 
49 
Si 
52 
56 
57 



- 



ii CONTENTS. 






PAGE 


Courage of Hope ...» 


59 


Choose Good Companions 


60 


Love of Knowledge .... 


61 


Self-Denial 


• • 63 


Idleness Not Happiness 


64 


Procrastination .... 


• 65 


Value of Time 


66 


Value of Odd Moments . 


. . 67 


Behind Time ..... 


68 


One by One (poetry) 


• 7i 


Learning in Youth .... 


72 


.The Power of Kindness . 


• 73 


Let Bygones be Bygones (poetry) 


74 


Thoughtlessness of Youth 


• 75 


Washington on Swearing 


76 


Beware of Little §ins 


• 77 


Conscientiousness in Small Things 


78 


Effects of Worry .... 


. 80 


Keep Your Temper . . 


81 


Truth and Falsehood 


. 82 


Characters . . . • • 


83 


Wisdom and Goodness 


91 


Energy and Courage . 


94 


Force of Purpose . 


• 95 


Promptitude and Decision . 


98 





CONTENTS. 


IX 

PAGE 




Riches and Refinement . 


. 99 




The Strength of Silence 


IOO 




Correct Speech .... 


. IOI 




Coarseness 


102 




Ready Men ..... 


. IO3 




Timely Jests . . . . . 


106 




The Steady and Sober Succeed 


IO7 




Courage in Sickness .... 


108 




How to Read . . * 


. 110 




What to Read 


III 




How to Enjoy ..... 


. 123 




What to Enjoy 


13° 




Marriage 


. 135 




Why a Man Needs a Wife . 


136 




Happiness 


• 137 




Success . . . . . 


143 




The Irreparable Past 


. 147 




Prepared for the End .... 


150 




•Thrift. 






Industry ....... 


. . 156 




Habits of Thrift . . . . • . 


169 




Methods of Economy 


192 




Self-Made Men . . . 


197 



X CONTENTS. 






PAGE 


Elihu B. Washburne . 


204 


Dwight Lyman Moody . 


226 


George Peabody . 


. 240 


Cornelius Vanderbilt .... 


257 


Robert Fulton ...... 


. 266 


Gen. James A. Garfield 


280 


Elias Howe 


. 292 


Hiram Powers 


3°3 


Jay Gould 


• 3*5 


Thurlow Weed 


327 


Rules for Behavior . 


• 35i 


Etiquette ...... 


353 


Introductions 


• 357 


Letters of Introduction 


359 


Salutes and Salutations . 


. 361 


Calls 


364 


Conversation ...... 


• 37° 


Street Etiquette 


378 


Travelling ...... 


• 3*3 


Etiquette in Church .... 


• 385 


Etiquette for Places of Amusement . 


• 387 


Table Etiquette 


389 


The Gentleman's Toilette 


• 39 2 


Miscellaneous . 


396 




WORK AWAY/ 

: ORK away ' 



^*p»*\v For the Master's eye is on us. 

Never off us, still upon us. 
« Night and day ! 

Work away ! 
Keep the busy fingers plying k 
Keep the ceaseless shuttles flying ; 
See that never thread lie wrong ; 
Let not clash or clatter round us, 
Sound of whirring wheels confound usj 
Steady hand ! let woof be strong 
And firm, that has to last so long ! 

Work away ! 
Bring your axes, woodmen true # 
Smite the forest till the blue 
Of Heaven's sunny eye looks through 
Every wide and tangled glade ; 
Jungle swamp and thicket shade 

Give to-day ! 
O'er the torrent's fling your bridges. 
Pioneers ! Upon the ridges 
Widen, smooth the rocky stair— 
They that follow, far behind, 



13 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

Coming after us, will find 
Surer, easier, footing there ; 
Heart to heart, and hand with hand, 
From the dawn to dusk of day, 

Work away ! 
Scouts upon the mountain's peak — 
Ye that see the Promised Land, 
Hearten us ! for ye can speak 
Of the country ye have scann'd, 

Far away ! 

Work away ! 
For the Father's eye is on us. 
Never off, still upon us, 

Night and day ! 

Work and Pray ! 
Pray ! and Work will be completer , 
Work ! and Prayer will be the sweeter ; 
Love ! and Prayer and Work the fleeter 
Will ascend upon their way ! 

Live in Future as in Present ; 
Work for both while yet the day 
Is our. own ! for Lord and Peasant, 
Long and bright as Summer's day, 
Cometh, yet more sure, more pleasant, 
Cometh soon our Holiday ; 
Work away ! 

— The Author of " The Patience of Hope.' 



SUCCESS 



AND 



HAPPINESS. 



THE BEGINNING OF LIFE. 

[HERE is a charm in opening manhood which 
has commended itself to the imagination in 
every age. The undefined hopes and promises 
of the future — the dawning strength of intellect — the 
vigorous flow of passion — the very exchange of home 
ties and protected joys for free and manly pleasures, 
give to this period an interest and excitement unfelt, 
perhaps, at any other. It is the beginning of life in 
the sense of independent and self-supporting action. 
Hitherto life has been to boys, as to girls, a derivative 
and dependent existence — a sucker from the parent 
growth — a home discipline of authority and guidance 
and communicated impulse. But henceforth it is a 
transplanted growth of its own — a new and free power 
of activity, in which the mainspring is no longer 
authority or law from without, but principle or opinion 
from within. The shoot which has been nourished 
under the shelter of the parent stem, and bent accord- 
ing to its inclination, is transferred to the open world, 
where of its own impulse and character it must take 



17 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

root, and grow into strength, or sink into weakness 
and vice. 

There is a natural pleasure in such a change. The 
sense of freedom is always joyful, at least at first. The 
mere consciousness of awakening powers and prospec- 
tive work touches with elation the youthful breast. 

But to every right-hearted youth this time must be 
also one of severe trial. Anxiety must greatly dash 
its pleasure. There must be regrets behind, and uncer- 
tainties before. The thought of home must excite a 
pang even in the first moments of freedom. Its glad 
shelter — its kindly guidance — its very restraints, how 
dear and tender must they seem in parting! How 
brightly must they shine in the retrospect as the youth 
turns from them to the hardened and unfamiliar face . 
of the world! With what a sweet, sadly-cheering 
pathos must they linger in the memory ! And then 
what chance and hazard is there in his newly-gotten 
freedom ! What instincts of warning in its very nov- 
elty and dim inexperience. What possibilities of fail- 
ure as well as of success in the unknown future as it 
stretches before him! 

Serious thoughts like these more frequently underlie 
the careless neglect of youth than is supposed. They 
do not show themselves, or seldom do ; but they work 
deeply and quietly. Even in the boy who seems all 



THE BEGINNING OF LIFE. 18 

absorbed in amusement or tasks, there is frequently a 
secret life of intensely serious consciousness, which 
keeps questioning with itself as to the meaning 
of what is going on around him, and what may be 
before him — which projects itself into the future, and 
rehearses the responsibilities and ambitions of his 
career. 

Certainly there is a grave importance as well as a 
pleasant charm in the beginning of life. There is awe 
as well as excitement in it, when rightly viewed. The 
possibilities that lie in it of noble or ignoble work — of 
happy self-sacrifice or ruinous self-indulgence — the 
capacities in the right use of which it may rise to 
heights of beautiful virtue, in the abuse of which it 
may sink to depths of debasing vice — make the crisis 
one of fear as well as of hope, of sadness as well as of 
joy. It is wistful as well as pleasing to think of the 
young passing year by year into the world, and 
engaging with its duties, its interests, and temptations. 
Of the throng that struggle at the gates of entrance, 
how many reach their anticipated goal? Carry the 
mind forward a few years, and some have climbed the 
hills of difficulty and gained the eminence on which 
they wished to, stand — some, although they may not 
have done this, have yet kept their truth unhurt, their 
integrity unspoiled ; but others have turned back, or 



19 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

have perished by the way, or fallen in weakness of will, 
no more to rise again. 

As we place ourselves with the young at the opening 
gates of life, and think of the end from the beginning, 
it is a deep concern more than anything else that fills 
us. Words of earnest argument and warning counsel 
rather than of congratulation rise to our lips. The 
seriousness outweighs the pleasantness of the prospect 



BEGIN WELL. 

fT is a great point for young men to begin well ; 
for it is in the beginning of life that that system 
of conduct is adopted, which soon assumes the 
force of Habit. Begin well, and the habit of doing 
well will become quite as easy as the habit of doing 
badly. " Well begun is half ended," says the proverb ; 
"and a good beginning is half the battle." Many 
promising young men have irretrievably injured them- 
selves by a first false step at the commencement of 
life ; while others, of much less promising talents, have 
succeeded simply by beginning well, and going onward. 
The good practical beginning is, to a certain extent, a 
pledge, a promise, and an assurance of the ultimate 
prosperous issue. There is many a poor creature, now 



WHAT TO DO. 20 

crawling through life, miserable himself and the cause 
of sorrow to others, who might have lifted up his head 
and prospered, if, instead of merely satisfying himself 
with resolutions of well-doing, he had actually gone to 
work and made a good practical beginning. 

Too many are, however, impatient of results. They 
are not satisfied to begin where their fathers did, but 
where they left off. They think to enjoy the fruits of 
industry without working for them. They cannot wait 
for the results of labor and application, but forestall 
them by too early indulgence. 




WHAT TO DO. 

^O the young who stand, as it were, on the 
threshold of the great workhouse of the world, 
preparing to take their part in it, it becomes a 
serious and urgent consideration what part they are to 
take in it. After the formation of Christian principles, 
the choice of a profession is the most serious "con- 
sideration that can engage their attention. 

Perhaps the first step in the consideration is to 
realize the necessity of having definite work to do, 
and the real worth, and, if we may say so, sacredness 
of all honest work. There are few men who escape 



21 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

the necessity of adopting some calling or profession ; 
and there are fewer still who, if they rightly under- 
stood their own interest and happiness, would ever 
think of such an escape. For, according to that law 
of work of which we have already spoken, life finds its 
most enjoyable action in regular alternations of employ- 
ment and leisure. Without employment it becomes a 
tedium, and men are forced to make work for them- 
selves. They turn their very pleasures into toil, and 
undertake, from the mere want of something to do, 
the most laborious and exhausting pastimes. To any 
healthy nature, idleness is an intolerable burden ; and 
\ts enforced endurance a more painful penance than 
the hardest labors. 

It is not easy, however, for the young to realize 
this. " Play " has been such a charm to their school- 
boy fancy, that they sometimes dream that they would 
like life to be all play. They are apt, at least, to take 
to regular work with something of a grudge. They 
have so many delays and difficulties about a profession, 
that time passes on and they miss their opportunity. 
There is no more serious calamity can happen to any 
young man than this ; and many a life has been wasted 
from sheer incapacity of fixing on what to do. The 
will gets feeble in the direction of self-denial of any 
kind, and talents which might have carried their 



WHAT TO DO. 22 

possessor on to social consideration and usefulness, 
serve merely to illumine an aimless and pitied exist- 
ence. 

Young men who are, so to speak, born to work — to 
whom life leaves no chance of idleness — are perhaps 
the most fortunate. They take up the yoke in their 
youth. They set their faces to duty from the first ; 
and if life should prove a burden, their backs become 
inured to it, so that they bear the weight more easily 
than others do pleasures and vanities. In our modern 
life, this is a largely-increasing class. As the relations 
of society become more complicated, and its needs 
more enlarged, refined, and expensive, the duty of 
work — -of every man to his own work — becomes more 
urgent and universal. There is no room left for the 
idle. There are certainly no rewards to them. Society 
expects every man to do his duty ; and its revenge is 
very swift when its claims are neglected or its expecta- 
tions disappointed. 

But it is at least equally important for young men 
to begin life with an intelligent appreciation of work 
as a whole, and to free their mind from the prejudices 
which have so long prevailed on this subject. It is 
singular how long and to what extent these prejudices 
have prevailed. Some kinds of employment have 
been deemed by traditionary opinion to be honorable* 



23 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

and such as gentlemen may engage in; others have 
been deemed to be base, and unfit for gentlemen. 
Why so ? It would puzzle any moralist to tell. The 
profession of a soldier is supposed to be the peculiar 
profession of a gentleman; that of a tailor is the 
opprobrium of boys and the ridicule of small wits. 
Is there not something untrue as well as unworthy in 
the implied comparison ? 

Let young men, and young women too, of whatever 
grade of life, to whom there may seem no opening in 
the now recognized channels of professional or dom- 
estic activity which have been conventionally associ- 
ated with their position, make to themselves, as they 
may be able, an opening in the ranks of commercial 
or mechanical employment. If society, from its very 
increase of wealth and refinement, and the expensive 
habits which necessarily flow from this increase, creates 
obstacles to an advantageous settlement in life after 
the old easy manner to many among the young, it cer- 
tainly ought not by its prejudices to stand in the way 
of their launching upon the great world of life in their 
own behalf, and attaining to what industrial independ- 
ence and prosperity they can. 

It is at least a right and wise feeling for the young 
to cultivate — that there is no form of honest work 
which is really beneath them- It may or may not be 



WHAT AM I FIT FOR ? 24 

suitable for them. It may or may not be the species 
of work to which they have any call. But let them 
not despise it. The grocer is equally honorable with 
the lawyer, and the tailor with the soldier, as we have 
already said. It is just as really becoming a gentle- 
man — if we could purge our minds of traditional delu- 
sions which will not stand a moment's impartial 
examination — to serve behind a counter as to sit at a 
desk, to pursue a handicraft as to indite a law paper 
or write an article. The only work that is more honor- 
able, is work of higher skill and more meritorious ex- 
cellence. It is the qualities of the workman, and not 
the name or nature of the work, that is the source of 
all real honor and respect. — Tulloch. 



WHAT AM I FIT FOR? 

{HE professions to which life invites the young 
are of very various kinds ; and the question of 
choice among them, as it is very important, is 
sometimes also very trying and difficult. Rightly viewed, 
it ought to be a question simply of capacity. What 
am I fit for? But it is more easy in many cases to ask 
this question than to answer it. It will certainly, how- 
ever, facilitate an answer, to disembarrass the mind of 



25 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

such prejudices as we have been speaking of. The 
ield of choice is in this manner left comparatively 
open. Work as such, if it be honest work, is esteemed 
not for the adventitious associations that may surround 
it, but because it offers an appropriate exercise for 
such powers as we possess, and a means of self-sup- 
port and independence. 

There are those to whom the choice of a profession 
presents comparatively few difficulties. They are 
gifted with an aptitude for some particular calling, in 
such a degree that they themselves and their friends 
discern their bent from early youth, and they grow up 
with no other desire than to betake themselves to 
what is acknowledged to be their destiny in the world. 
Such cases are, perhaps, the happiest of all , but they 
are far from numerous. A special aptitude is seldom 
so prononnced in youth. Even where it exists, it lies 
hid many a time, and unknown even to its possessor, 
till opportunity calls it forth. 

There are other cases where the circumstances of 
the young are such as to mark out for them, without 
deliberation on their part, the profession which they 
are to follow. Family traditions and social advan- 
tages may so clearly point their way in life that they 
never hesitate. They have never been accustomed 
to look in any other direction, and thev take to their 



WHAT AM I FIT FOR? * 26 

lot with a happy pride, or at least a cheerful con- 
tentment. 

But the great majority of young men are not to be 
found in either of these envied positions. They have 
their way to make in the world; and they are neither 
so specially gifted, on the one hand, nor so fortunately 
circumstanced, on the other eand, as to see clearly 
and without deliberation the direction in which they 
should turn, and the fitting work which they should 
give themselves. 

Many things must be considered by them and for 
them in such a case which we are not called upon to 
discuss here — which, indeed, we cannot discuss here. 
The accidents of position, with which, after all, the 
balance of their lot may lie, vary so indefinitely that 
it would be impossible to indicate any clear line of 
direction for them. But without venturing to do this, 
it may be useful to fix the thoughts of the young upon 
certain general features of the various classes of pro- 
fessions that lie before them in the world open for their 
ambition and attainment. 

Professions may be generally classified as intellec- 
tual, commercial, and mechanical, excluding those 
which belong to the public service, such as the army 
and navy, and the civil offices under Government. 
These form by themselves a class of professions of 



27 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

great importance. But the aptitudes which they 
require are, upon the whole, less determined, and 
therefore less easily characterized than those which 
the ordinary professions demand. A merchant or a 
shoemaker, or even a clergyman, may become, should 
circumstances summon him, a soldier or a diplomatist? 
but neither the soldier nor diplomatist could so easily 
assume the functions of the merchant, or shoemaker, 
or clergyman. 

Neither must it be supposed, in making this classifi- 
cation, that the names we have used have anything 
more than a general application warranted by the talk 
of society, and, therefore, sufficiently intelligible. 
There are certain callings which society has agreed to 
consider more intellectual, more of the character of 
professions, and others which it regards as more pecu- 
liarly of a business or commercial character, and 
others again that are more of the nature of a craft, or 
handiwork. In point of fact, all are intellectual in the 
sense of calling into exercise the intellectual powers ; 
and it may so happen that more mental capacity may 
be shown in conducting affairs of business, or in in- 
venting or applying some new mechanical agency, 
than in the discharge of the duties of the intellectual 
professions, commonly so called. This does not, how- 
ever, affect the propriety of the classification. The 



WHAT AM I FIT FOR ? 28 

subject-matter of the callings is nevertheless distinct. 
Those of the first class deal more largely and directly 
with the intellectual nature of man ; they involve a 
more special mental training; while those of the 
other two classes deal more with the outward indus- 
trial activities, and are presumed not to require so pro- 
longed or careful an intellectual education. 

This obvious distinction serves to mark generally 
the qualities that are demanded in these respective 
orders of professions. Whether a man is to be a 
clergyman, lawyer (using the word in its largest sense 
as including the profession of the bar), physician — or 
a merchant, an engineer, or an ordinary tradesman, 
should depend, in a general way at least, on the com- 
parative vivacity and force of his intellectual powers. 
A youth who has but little intellectual interest, who 
cares but little or not at all for literary study and the 
delights of scholastic ambition, is shut out by nature 
from approach to the former professions. They are 
not his calling in any high or even useful sense. He 
may approach them and enter upon them, and a cer- 
tain worldly success may even await him in them 
under the favoring gale of circumstances ; but accord- 
ing to any real standard of excellence or utility, 
he has missed his proper course in life. He may 
have found what he wanted, but others will often 



29 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

have failed to find in him what they were entitled to 
expect 

The same is no less true of the Bar or legal profes- 
sion in all its bearings and of the profession of Medi- 
cine. Each of these professions demand a vivacious 
intellectual interest, powers of real and independent 
thought. Neither their principles can be grasped, nor 
their highest applications to the well-being of society 
appreciated, without these. All, it may be said, are 
not required to rise so high ; there must be common as 
well as higher workmen in all professions — " hewers of 
wood and drawers of water," as well as men of wide 
and commanding intelligence. And this is true. Only 
the question remains, whether those who never rise 
above the mechanical routine of the higher profes- 
sions would not have been really more happy and use- 
ful in some lower department of industry. In con- 
templating a profession none should willingly set 
before them the prospect of being nothing but a 
Gideonite in it. And yet this must be the fate, and 
deserves to be the fate, of all who rush towards work 
for which nature has given them no special capacity. 
By aiming beyond their power, they are likely to fall 
short of the competency and success that, in some 
more congenial form of work, might have awaited 
them. 



WHAT AM I FIT FOR ? 30 

It seems so far, therefore, that there is a sufficiently 
plain line of guidance as to the choice of a profes- 
sion. If your interest is not in study, if your bent is 
not intellectual, then there is one large class of pro- 
fessions for which you are not destined. You may be 
intellectual, highly so, and yet you may not choose 
any of these professions; circumstances may render 
this inadvantageous ; or, while your intellectual life is 
inquisitive and powerful, your active ambition may be 
no less powerful, and may carry you away. But at 
any rate, if you have not a lively interest in intellec- 
tual pursuits, neither the Church, nor the Bar, nor 
Medicine is your appropriate professional sphere. 
You can never be in any of these a " workman need- 
ing not to be ashamed." 

Nor let it be supposed that there is anything derog- 
atory in this lack of intellectual interest in the sense 
in which we now mean. It by no means implies intel- 
lectual ignorance or indisposition to knowledge, but 
simply no predominating desire for study as a habit 
and mode of life. It is not the book in the quiet 
room that interests you so much as the busy ways of 
the world, the commercial intercourse of men, or, it 
may be, some mechanical craft to which your thoughts 
are ever turning, and your hands inclining. How con- 
stantly are such differences observed in boys ! Schol- 



31 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

astic tastes weary and stupefy some who are all alert 
as soon as the unwelcome pressure is lifted from their 
minds, and their energies are allowed their natural 
play. Their aptitude is not for classic lore; their 
delight is not in lore at all, but in active work of some 
kind, the interest of which is of an every-day practical 
character. 

The simple rule in such a case is — follow your bent. 
It may not show itself so particularly as in some cases 
we have already supposed; but, at least, it is so far 
manifest. It is clearly not in certain directions, and 
so far, therefore, the field of your choice is limited. 
Probe a little deeper and more carefully, and it may 
come more plainly into view. And, remember, one 
bent is really as honorable as another, although it may 
not aim so high. The young merchant is just as 
clearly "called" as the young clergyman, if he feel 
the faculty of business stirring in him. And who seem 
often more called than great mechanicians — men often 
with little general knowledge, and little intellectual 
taste and sympathy, but who have a creative faculty of 
designs, as determinate in its way as the art of the 
painter or the poet ? 

These are special cases. But in ordinary youth 
something of the same kind may be observed. There 
are boys designed by nature for commercial life ; there 



WHAT AM I FIT FOR ? 32 

are others plainly designed for mechanical employ- 
ment. Nature has stamped their destiny upon them 
in signs which show themselves, if sought after. Let 
not them and their friends try to countersign the seal 
of nature. This is always a grievous harm ; a harm to 
the individual, and a possible harm to the world. 

Even where Nature's indications may be obscure, 
there seems no other rule than to trace and follow 
them. Some boys of healthy and well-developed 
faculties, or, still more likely, of weak and unemphatic 
qualities, may seem to have no particular destiny in 
the world. Yet they have. Their place is prepared 
for them, if they can find it. And their only hope of 
doing so is to observe nature, and follow it. She may 
not have written her lines broadly on their souls, but 
she has put tracings there, which may be found and 
followed. There are a few who may seem to find 
their position in the world more by accident than any- 
thing else. Circumstances determine their lot, and 
without any thought of theirs, they seem to get into 
the place most fitting them. Yet even in such cases, 
circumstances are often less powerful than are sup- 
posed, or, at least, they have wrought with nature, and 
this unconscious conformity has proved the strongest 
influence in fashioning such lives to prosperity and 
success. 



33 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

For strong natures there is strong work ; for weak 
and less certain natures, there is also work, but not of 
the same kind. The back is fitted to the burden in a 
higher sense than is sometimes meant, if only the 
back do not overtask its powers, and assume to carry 
weight that was never meant for it. — Tulloch. 



RESISTANCE TO TEMPTATION. 

|HE young man, as he passes through life, ad- 
vances through a long line of tempters 
ranged on either side of him; and the in- 
evitable effect of yielding is degradation in a greater 
or less degree. Contact with them tends insensibly 
to draw away from him some portion of the divine 
electric element with which his nature is charged- 
and his only mode of resisting them is to utter and 
to act out his " No " manfully and resolutely. He 
must decide at once, not waiting to deliberate and 
balance reasons ; for the youth, like " the woman who 
deliberates, is lost. " Many deliberate, without decid- 
ing, but "not to resolve, is to resolve." A perfect 
knowledge of man is in the prayer, '* Lead us not into 
temptation." But temptation will come to try the 
young man's strength ; and once yielded to, the power 



RESISTANCE TO TEMPTATION. 34 

to resist grows weaker and weaker. Yield once, and a 
portion of virtue has gone. Resist manfully, and the 
first decision will give strength for life; repeated, it will 
become a habit. It is in the outworks of the habits 
formed in early life that the real strength of the defence 
must lie; for it has been wisely ordained, that the 
machinery of moral existence should be carried on 
principally through the medium of the habits, so as to 
save the wear and tear of the great principles within. 
It is good habits which insinuate themselves into the 
thousand inconsiderable acts of life, that really con- 
stitute by far the greater part of man's moral conduct. 
Hugh Miller has told how, by an act of youthful 
decision, he saved himself from one of the strong 
temptations so peculiar to a life of toil. When em- 
ployed as a mason, it was usual for his fellow-work- 
men to have an occasional treat of drink, and one day 
two glasses of whiskey fell to his share, which he 
swallowed. When he reached home, he found, on 
opening his favorite book — " Bacon's Essays " — that 
the letters danced before his eyes, and that he could 
no longer master the sense. "The condition," he says, 
" into which I had brought myself was, I felt, one of 
degradation. I had sunk, by my own act, for the time, 
to a lower level of intelligence than that on which it 
was my privilege to be placed; and though the state 



35 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

could have been no very favorable one for forming a 
resolution, I in that hour determined that I should 
never again sacrifice my capacity of intellectual en- 
joyment to a drinking usage ; and with God's help, I 
was enabled to hold by the determination." It is such 
decisions as this that often form the turning-points in 
a man's life, and furnish the foundation of his future 
character. And this rock, on which Hugh Miller 
might have been wrecked, if he had not at the right 
moment put forth his moral strength to strike away 
from it, is one that youth and manhood alike need to 
be constantly on their guard against. It is about one 
of the worst and most deadly, as well as extravagant, 
temptations which lie in the way of youth. Sir Walter 
Scott used to say " that of all vices, drinking is the 
most incompatible with greatness." Not only so, but 
it is incompatible with economy, decency, health, and 
honest living. When a youth cannot restrain, he must 
abstain. Dr. Johnson's case is the case of many. He 
said, referring to his own habits, " Sir, I can abstain; 
but I can't be moderate." — Smiles. 

Here are Dr. Thomas Guthrie's excellent reasons 
for becoming a total abstainer: " I have tried both 
ways; I speak from experience. I am in good spirits 
because I take no spirits; I am hale because I use no 



RESISTANCE TO TEMPTATION. 36 

ale; I take no antidote in the form of drugs because I 
take no poison in the form of drinks. Thus, though 
in the first instance I sought only the public good, I 
have found my own also since I became a total 
abstainer. I have these four reasons for continuing to 
be one: first, mv health is stronger; second, my head 
is clearer; third, my heart is lighter; fourth, my purse 
is heavier." 

In the course of a recent address at Exeter Hall, 
London, Mr. John B. Gough said: " I knew a man in 
America who undertook to give up the habit of chew- 
ing tobacco. He put his hand in his pocket, took out 
his plug of tobacco and threw it away, saying as he 
did so, * That's the end of it.' But it was the begin- 
ning of it. Oh, how he did want it! He would lick 
his lips, he would chew camomile, he would chew 
toothpicks, quills— anything to keep the jaws going. 
No use; he suffered intensely. After enduring the 
craving for thirty-six or forty-eight hours, he made up 
his mind, 'Now, it's no use suffering for a bit of 
tobacco; I will go and get some.' So he went and 
purchased another plug, and put it in his pocket. 
1 Now,' he said, l when I want it awfully, I'll take some.' 
Well, he did want it awfully; and he said he believed 
that it was God's good Spirit that was striving with 
3 



37 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

him as he held the tobacco in his hand. Looking at 
it, he said, ' I love you. But are you my master, or am 
I yours ? You are a weed, and I am a man. You are 
a thing, and I am a man. I'll master you, if I die for 
it. 1 Every time he wanted it he would take it out and 
talk to it. It was six or eight weeks before he could 
throw it away and feel easy ; but he said the glory of 
the victory repaid for all his struggle." 




A HIGH STANDARD NECESSARY. 

*UT to wrestle vigorously and successfully with 
any vicious habit, we must not merely be 
satisfied with contending on the low ground 
of worldly prudence, though that is of use, but take 
stand upon a higher moral elevation. Mechanical aids, 
such as pledges, may be of service to some, but the 
great thing is to set up a high standard of thinking 
and acting, and endeavor to strengthen and purify the 
principles, as well as to reform the habits. For this 
purpose a youth must study himself, watch his steps, 
and compare his thoughts and acts with his rule. 
The more knowledge of himself he gains, the more 
humble will he be, and perhaps the less confident in 
his own strength. But the discipline will be found 



ALL HONEST INDUSTRY HONORABLE. 38 

most valuable which is acquired by resisting small 
present gratifications to secure a prospective greater 
and higher one. It is the noblest work in self-educa- 
tion—for 

" Real glory 

Springs from the silent conquest of ourselves, 

And without that the conqueror is nought 

But the first slave." 

— Smiles. 




ALL HONEST INDUSTRY HONORABLE. 

^HERE is no discredit, but honor, in every right 
walk of industry, whether it be in tilling the 
ground, making tools, weaving fabrics, or sell- 
ing the products behind a counter. A youth may 
handle a yard-stick, or measure a piece of ribbon ; 
and there will be no discredit in doing so, unless he 
allows his mind to have no higher range than the 
stick and ribbon ; to be as short as the one, and as 
narrow as the other. " Let not those blush who have" 
said Fuller, " but those who have not a lawful calling." 
And Bishop Hall said, " Sweet is the destiny of all 
trades, whether of the brow or of the mind." Men 
who have raised themselves from a humble calling, 
need not be ashamed, but rather ought to be proud 
of the difficulties they have surmounted. The laborer 



39 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

on his feet stands higher than the nobleman on his 
knees. One of our Presidents, when asked what was 
his coat-of-arms, remembering that he had been a 
hewer of wood in his youth, replied, " A pair of shirt- 
sleeves." Lord Tenterden was proud to point out to 
his son the shop in which his father had shaved for a 
penny. A French doctor once taunted Flechier, 
Bishop of Nismes, who had been a tallow-chandler in 
his youth, with the meanness of his origin, to which 
Flechier replied, " If you had been born in the same 
condition that I was, you would still have been but a 
maker of candles." Some small spirits, ashamed of 
their origin, are always striving to conceal it, and by 
the very efforts they make to do so, betray themselves; 
like that worthy but stupid Yorkshire dyer, who, hav- 
ing gained his money by honest chimney-sweeping, 
and feeling ashamed of chimneys, built his house 
without one, sending all his smoke into the shaft of his 
dye-works. — Smiles. 



MONEY-MAKING. 

r ANY popular books have been written for the 
purpose of communicating to the public the 
grand secret of making money. But there 
is no secret whatever about it, as the proverbs of every 




MONEY-MAKING, iO 

nation abundantly testify, " Many a little makes a 
meikle." 

" Take care of the pennies and the pounds will take 
care of themselves." 

" A penny saved is a penny gained." 
" Diligence is the mother of good-luck." 
" No pains no gains." 
" No sweat no sweet." 
" Sloth, the key of poverty." 
" Work, and thou shalt have." 
" He who will not work, neither shall he eat." 
"The world is his, who has patience and industry." 
" It is too late to spare when all is spent." 
" Better go to bed supperless than rise in debt" 
" The morning hour has gold in its mouth." 
" Credit keeps the crown of the causeway." 
Such are specimens of the proverbial philosophy, 
embodying the hoarded experience of many genera- 
tions, as to the best means of thriving in the world. 
They were current in people's mouths long before 
books were invented; and, like other popular proverbs, 
they were the first codes of popular morals. More- 
over, they have stood the test of time, and the experi- 
ence of every day still bears witness to their accuracy, 
force and soundness. 

The proverbs of Solomon are full of wisdom, as to 



41 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

the force of industry, and the use and abuse of money: 
•* He that is slothful in work is brother to him that is a 
great waster," " Go to the ant, thou sluggard; con- 
sider her ways and be wise." Poverty, he says, shall 
come upon the idler, " as one that traveleth, and want 
as an armed man; " but of the industrious and upright, 
" The hand of the diligent maketh rich." " He who 
will not plough by reason of the cold, shall beg in 
harvest, and have nothing." " The drunkard and the 
glutton shall come to poverty; and drowsiness shall 
clothe a man with rags." "The slothful man says 
there is a lion in the streets." " Seest thou a man 
diligent in his business ? he shall stand before kings." 
But above all " It is better to get wisdom than gold; 
for wisdom is better than rubies, and all the things 
that may be desired are not to be compared to it." 

Simple industry and thrift will go far towards making 
any person of ordinary working faculty comparatively 
independent in his means. Even a working man may 
be so, provided he will carefully husband his resources 
and watch the little outlets of useless expenditure. 

Nothing, however, is more common than energy in 
money-making, quite independent of any higher object 
than its accumulation. A man who devotes himself to 
this pursuit, body and soul, can scarcely fail to become 
rich. Very little brains will do; spend less than you 



MONEY-MAKING. 42 

earn; add dollar to dollar; scrape and save; and the 
pile of gold will gradually rise. John Foster quoted a 
striking illustration of what this kind of determination 
will do in money-making. A young man who ran 
through his patrimony, spending it in profligacy, was 
at length reduced to utter want and despair. He 
rushed out of his house, intending to put an end to his 
life, and stopped on arriving at an eminence overlook- 
ing what were once his estates. He sat down, rumin- 
ated for a time, and rose with the determination 
that he would recover them. He returned to the 
streets, saw a load of coals which had been shot out 
of a cart on to the pavement before a house, offered 
to carry them in, and was employed. He thus earned 
a few pence, requested some meat and drink as a 
gratuity, which was given him, and the pennies were 
laid by. Pursuing this menial labor, he earned and 
saved more pennies; accumulated sufficient to enable 
him to purchase some cattle, the value of which he 
understood, and these he sold to advantage. He now 
pursued money with a step as steady as time, and an 
appetite as keen as death ; advancing by degrees into 
larger and larger transactions, until at length he 
became rich. The result was, that he more than re- 
covered his possessions, and died an inveterate miser. 
When he was buried, mere earth went to earth. With 



43 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

a nobler spirit, the same determination might have 
enabled such a man to be a benefactor to others as 
well as to himself. But the life and its end in this 
case were alike sordid. — Smiles. 




THE LOVE OF MONEY. 

^HE saving of money for the mere sake of it, is 
but a mean thing, even though earned by 
honest work ; but where earned by dice- 
throwing, or speculation, and without labor, it is still 
worse. To provide for others, and for our own com- 
fort and independence in old age, is honorable, and 
greatly to be commended ; but to hoard for mere 
wealth's sake is the characteristic of the narrow-souled 
and the miserly. It is against the growth of this habit 
of inordinate saving, that the wise man needs most 
carefully to guard himself ; else, what in youth was 
simple economy, may in old age grow into avarice, 
and what was a duty in the one, may become a vice in 
the other. It is the love of money — not money itself 
— which is the " root of evil M — a love which narrows 
and contracts the soul, and closes it against generous 
life and action. Hence, Sir Walter Scott makes one 
of his characters declare that " the penny siller siew 



RICHES NO PROOF OF WORTH. 44 

mair souls than the naked sword slew bodies." It is 
one of the defects of business too exclusively followed, 
that it insensibly tends to a mechanism of character. 
The business man gets into a rut, and often does not 
look beyond it. If he lives for himself only, he 
becomes apt to regard other human beings only in so 
far as they minister to his ends. Take a leaf from 
such men's ledger, and you have their life. It is said 
of one of our most eminent modern men of business — 
withal a scrupulously honorable man — who spent his 
life mainly in money-making, and succeeded, that 
when upon his death-bed, he turned to his favorite 
daughter, and said solemnly to her, " Hasn't it been a 

mistake, ? " He had been thinking of the good 

jrhich other men of his race had done, and which he 
might have done, had he not unhappily found exclu- 
sive money-making to be a mistake when it was too 
late to remedy it. — Smiles. 



RICHES NO PROOF OF WORTH. 

^ORLDLY success, measured by the accu- 
mulation of money, is no doubt a very 
dazzling thing ; and all men are naturally 
more or less the admirers of worldly success. But 




45 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

though men of persevering, sharp, dexterous, and 
unscrupulous habits, ever on the watch to push oppor- 
tunities, may and do " get on " in the world ; yet it is 
quite possible that they may not possess the slightest 
elevation of character, nor a particle of real greatness. 
He who recognizes no higher logic than that of the 
dollar, may become a very rich man, and yet remain 
all the while an exceedingly poor creature. For riches 
are no proof whatever of moral worth ; and their glit- 
ter often serves only to draw attention to the worth- 
lessness of their possessor, as the glowworm's light 
reveals the grub. " In morals/' says Mr. Lynch, " a 
penny may outweigh a pound — may represent more 
industry and character. The money that witnesses of 
patient, inventive years of fair dealing and brave deal- 
ing, proves ' worth ' indeed. But neither a man's 
means nor his worth are measurable by his money. If 
he has a fat purse and a lean heart, a broad estate and 
a narrow understanding, what will his i means ' do for 
him — what will his i worth ' gain him ? " Let a man 
be what he will, it is the mind and heart that make 
a man poor or rich, miserable or happy; for these are 
always stronger than fortune. 

The manner in which so many allow themselves to 
be sacrificed to their love of wealth, reminds one of 
the cupidity of the monkey — that caricature of ou* 



EVILS OF SELF-INDULGENCE. 46 

Species. In Algiers, the Kabyle peasant attaches a 
gourd, well fixed, to a tree, and places within it some 
rice. The gourd has an opening merely sufficient to 
admit the monkey's paw. The creature comes to the 
tree by night, inserts his paw, and grasps his booty. 
He tries to draw it back, but it is clenched, and he 
has not the wisdom to unclench it. So there he stands 
till morning, when he is caught, looking as foolish as 
may be, though with the prize in his grasp. The 
moral of this little story is capable of a very exten- 
sive application in life. — Smiles. 



EVILS OF SELF-INDULGENCE. 

T, like Cleopatra, you had dissolved a pearl — if 
you had put together the income of years — all 
that has been spent on self-indulgence — perhaps 
in enticing others into sin — could you have put it all 
together, and, like the queenly jewel, dissipated it in 
dust and air, we might have been sorry for the idle 
sacrifice, but the wasted money would not have wasted 
you. Cleopatra had another pearl, the gift of peerless 
beauty. That gift was perverted, and it hatched a 
serpent; it came back into her bosom — the asp which 
stung her. So with the possessions of the prodigal. 



47 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

Talents laid up in a napkin, pearls melted in vinegar, 
will benefit no one; but rank, fortune, health, high 
spirits, laid out in the service of sin, are scorpion-eggs, 
and fostered and fully grown, the forthcoming furies 
will seize on the conscience, and with stings of fire 
will torment it evermore. — Hamilton. 



POWER OF MONEY OVER-ESTIMATED. 

fHE power of money is, on the whole, over- 
estimated. The greatest things which have 
been done for the world have not been accom- 
plished by rich men, or by subscription lists, but by 
men generally of small pecuniary means. Christian- 
ity was propagated over half the world by men of the 
poorest class ; and the greatest thinkers, discoverers, 
inventors, and artists, have been men of moderate 
wealth, many of them little raised above the condition 
of manual laborers in point of worldly circumstances. 
And it will always be so. Riches are oftener an im- 
pediment than a stimulus to action ; and in many 
cases they are quite as much a misfortune as a bless- 
ing. The youth who inherits wealth, is apt to have 
life made too easy for him, and he soon grows sated 
with it, because he has nothing left to desire. Having 



FAILURE OF RICH MEN'S SONS. 48 

no special object to struggle for, he finds time hang 
heavy on his hands ; he remains morally and spirit- 
ually asleep ; and his position in society is often no 
higher than that of a polypus over which the tide 

floats. 

" His only labor is to kill the time, 

And labor dire it is, and weary woe. * 

Yet the rich man, inspired by a right spirit, will 
spurn idleness as unmanly ; and if he bethink bim of 
the responsibilities which attach to the possession of 
wealth and property, he will feel even a higher call to 
work than men of poorer lot. This, however, must 
be admitted to be by no means the practice of life. 
The golden mean of Agur's perfect prayer, is, perhaps, 
the best lot of all, if we did but know it : " Give me 
neither poverty nor riches ; feed me with food con- 
venient for me." — Smiles. 



FAILURE OF RICH MEN'S SONS. 

*HE president of one of our largest banks said, 
a short time ago, that a rich man's son h^d 
just left his place, and he was the last man &* 
the kind he should ever employ. The man was faith- 
ful, honest, and fulfilled intelligently a^>4 w^U *13 th* 




49 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

duties required of him; but just as he had become 
accustomed to his work, he found out that it was too 
confining, and a raw clerk had to be put in his place. 

A bad look-out this for rich young men; but it is the 
old story repeated for the thousandth time. If rich 
men's sons will not endure the drudgery by which 
nearly all their fathers secured money and position, 
they must take a secondary place in the next genera- 
tion; and oftener they drop out of sight amid the idle, 
worthless herd, if, indeed they escape an association 
with loafers and criminals. 

Nearly every man in any leading position in the 
community began life poor. Let the sons of our rich 
men take warning and go to work honestly and faith- 
fully every day, if they hope to fill the positions hon- 
orably held by their fathers. 



TRUE RESPECTABILITY. 

'ESPECTABILITY, in its best sense, is good. 
The respectable man is one worthy of regard, 
literally worth turning back to look at. But 
the respectability that consists in merely keeping up 
appearances is not worth looking at in any sense. Far 
better and more respectable is the good poor man 




TRUE RESPECTABILITY. 50 

than the bad rich one — better the humble silent man 
than the agreeable, well-appointed rogue, who keeps 
his carriage. A well-balanced and well-stored mind, 
a life full of useful purpose, whatever the position 
occupied in it may be — is of far greater importance 
than average worldly respectability. The highest 
object of life we take to be, to form a manly charac- 
ter, and to work out the best development possible, of 
body and spirit — of mind, conscience, heart and soul. 
This is the end; all else ought to be regarded but as 
the means. Accordingly, that is not the most success- 
ful life in which a man gets the most pleasure, the 
most money, the most power or place, honor or fame; 
but that in which a man gets the most manhood, and 
performs the greatest amount of useful work and of 
human duty. Money is power after its sort, it is true; 
but intelligence, public spirit, and moral virtue, are 
powers too, and far nobler ones. " Let others plead 
for pensions," wrote Lord Collingwood to a friend; 
" I can be rich without money, by endeavoring to be 
superior to everything poor. I would have my services 
to my country unstained by any interested motive; 
and old Scott* and I can go on in our cabbage-garden 
without much greater expense than formerly." On 

* His old gardener. Collingwood' s favorite amusement was 
gardening. 



51 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

another occasion he said, " I have motives for my 
conduct which I would not give in exchange for a 
hundred pensions." 

The making of a fortune may no doubt enable some 
people to " enter society," as it is called; but to be 
esteemed there, they must possess qualities of mind, 
manners, or heart, else they are merely rich people, 
nothing more. There are men " in society " now, as 
rich as Crossus, who have no consideration extended 
towards them, and elicit no respect. For why? They 
are but as money-bags, their only power is in their 
till. The men of mark in society — the guides and 
rulers of opinion — the really successful and useful 
men — -are not necessarily rich men; but men of ster- 
ling character, of disciplined experience, and of moral 
excellence. — Smiles. 




LIVING TOO HIGH. 

^IDDLE-CLASS people are too apt to live up 
to their incomes, if not beyond them; affect- 
ing a degree of " style " which is most un- 
healthy in its effect upon society at large. There is 
an ambition to bring up boys as gentlemen, or rather 
" genteel " men; though the result frequently is, only 
to make them gents. They acquire a taste for dress, 



APPLICATION AND PERSEVERANCE. 52 

style, luxuries and amusements, which can never form 
any solid foundation for manly or gentlemanly char- 
acter; and the result is, that we have a vast number of 
gingerbread young gentry thrown upon the world, who 
remind one of the abandoned hulls sometimes picked 
up at sea, with only a monkey on board. 

We keep up appearances too often at the expense 
of honesty; and, though we may not be rich, yet we 
must seem to be so. We have not the courage to go 
patiently onward in the condition of life in which it 
has pleased God to call us; but must needs live in some 
fashionable state to which we ridiculously please to 
call ourselves. There is a constant struggle and pres- 
sure for front seats in the social amphitheatre; in the 
midst of which all noble self-denying resolve is trodden 
down, and many fine natures are inevitably crushed to 
death. What waste and misery this leads to we need 
not describe. — Smiles. 



APPLICATION AND PERSEVERANCE. 

^ITHOUT application and perseverance, if 
we rise at all, we shall — to use a common 
expression—" go up like a rocket and come 
down like a stick." Sydney Smith says: " The pre- 
vailing idea with young people, has been the incom- 

4 




53 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

patibility of labor and genius ; and therefore, from 
the fear of being thought dull, they have thought it 
necessary to remain ignorant. It would go very far to 
destroy the absurd and pernicious association of genius 
and idleness, to show that the greatest poets, orators, 
statesmen, and historians — men of the most imposing 
and brilliant talents — have actually labored as hard as 
the makers of dictionaries and arrangers of indexes ; 
and the most obvious reason why they have been 
superior to other men, is, that they have taken more 
pains than other men. 

" Gibbon was in his study every morning, winter 
and summer, at six o'clock ; Burke was the most 
laborious and indefatigable of human beings; Leibnitz 
was never out of his library ; Pascal killed himself by 
study ; Cicero narrowly escaped death from the same 
cause ; Milton was at his books with as much regular- 
ity as a merchant or an attorney ; he had mastered all 
the knowledge of his time ; so had Homer ; Raphael 
lived but thirty-seven years, and in that short space 
carried the art of painting so far beyond what it had 
before reached, that he appears to stand alone as a 
model to his successors." 

Dalton, the chemist, always repudiated the notion of 
his being " a genius," attributing everything which he 
had accomplished to simple industry and accumulation. 



APPLICATION AND PERSEVERANCE. U 

Disraeli the elder, held that the secret of all success 
consisted in being master of your subject, such a 
result being only attainable through continuous appli- 
cation and study. 

Newton, when asked by what means he had worked 
out his wonderful discoveries, modestly replied, " By 
always thinking unto them." 

A great point is to get the working quality well 
trained. Facility comes with labor. Nothing can be 
accomplished without it. Continuous application will 
effect marvellous results in the commonest of things. 
It may seem a simple thing to play upon a violin ; yet 
what a long and laborious practice it requires! Giar- 
dini, when asked by a youth how long it would take to 
learn it, replied, " Twelve hours a day for twenty years 
together." 

■ When Taglioni, the great danseuse, was preparing 
herself for her evening performance, she would, after 
a severe two hours' lesson from her father, fall down 
exhausted, and had to be undressed, spunged, and 
resuscitated, totally unconscious. Success was attained 
only at a price like this. Less than half of such 
application devoted to self culture, could scarcely fail 
in insuring success. Progress, however, as a rule, is 
slow. Wonders cannot be achieved at once ; and we 
must be satisfied to advance in improvement as we 



55 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

walk step by step. It has been said, that " to know 
how to wait is the great secret of success." Sow first, 
then reap ; and oftentimes we must be content to look 
forward patiently in hope ; the fruit best worth wait- 
ing for often ripens the slowest. " Time and patience/' 
says the Eastern proverb, " change the mulberry leaf 
to satin." 



The greatest results in life are usually attained by 
simple means, and the exercise of ordinary qualities. 
The common life of every day, with its cares, neces- 
sities, and duties, affords ample opportunity for ac- 
quiring experience of the best kind ; and its most 
beaten paths provide the true worker with abundant 
scope for effort and room for self-improvement. The 
great high-road of human welfare lies along the old 
highway of steadfast well-doing ; and they who arc 
the most persistent, and work in the truest spirit, will 
invariably be the most successful. 

Fortune has often been blamed for her blindnesf ; 
but fortune is not so blind as men are. Those who 
look into practical life will find that fortune is usually 
on the side of the industrious, as the winds and waves 
are on the side of the best navigators. Success treads 
on the heels of every right effort ; and though it is 
possible to overestimate success to the extent of almost 



SEDULITY AND DILIGENCE. 56 

deifying it, as is sometimes done, still, in any worthy 
pursuit, it is meritorious. Nor are the qualities neces- 
sary to insure success at all extraordinary. They may, 
for the most part, be summed up in these two — com- 
mon sense and perseverance. — Smiles. 



SEDULITY AND DILIGENCE. 

fHERE is no such prevalent workman as sedu- 
lity and diligence. A man would wonder at 
the mighty things which have been done by 
degrees and gentle augmentations. Diligence and 
moderation are the best steps whereby to climb to any 
excellency. Nay, it is rare if there be any other way. 
The heavens send not down their rain in floods, but 
by drops and dewy distillations. A man is neither 
good, nor wise, nor rich, at once : yet softly creeping 
up these hills, he'shall every day better his prospect ; 
till at last he gains the top. Now he learns a virtue, 
and then he damns a vice. An hour in a day may 
much profit a man in his study, when he makes it stint 
and custom. Every year something laid up, may in 
time make a stock great. Nay, if a man does but 
save, he shall increase ; and though when the grains 
are scattered, they be next to nothing, yet together 



57 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

they will swell the heap. He that has the patience to 
attend small profits, may quickly grow to thrive and 
purchase ; they be easier to accomplish, and come 
thicker. So, he that from everything collects some- 
what, shall in time get a treasury of wisdom. And 
when all is done, for man, this is the best way. It is 
for God, and for Omnipotency, to do mighty things in 
a moment ; but, degreeingly to grow to greatness, is the 
course that he hath left for man. — Feltham. 



GOOD COUNSEL. 

fURNISH yourselves with a rieh variety of ideas ; 
acquaint yourselves with things ancient and 
" modern ; things natural, civil, and religious \ 

things domestic and national ; things of your native 
land and of foreign countries ; things present, past, 
and future ; and, above all, be well acquainted with 
God and yourselves ; learn animal nature, and the 
workings of your own spirits. 

The way of attaining such an extensive treasure of 
ideas is, with diligence to apply yourself to read the 
best books ; converse with the most knowing and the 
wisest of men, and endeavor to improve by every per- 
son in whose company you are ; suffer no hour to pass 



GOOD COUNSEL. 58 

away in a lazy idleness, in impertinent chattering, or 
useless trifles ; visit other cities and countries when 
you have seen your own, under the care of one who 
can teach you to profit by traveling, and to make wise 
observations ; indulge a just curiosity in seeing the 
wonders of art and nature ; search into things your- 
selves, as well as learn them from others ; be ac- 
quainted with men as well as books ; learn all things 
as much as you can at first hand ; and let as many of 
your ideas as possible be the representations of 
things, and not merely the representations of other 
men's ideas ; thus your soul, like some noble building, 
shall be richly furnished with original paintings, and 
not with mere copies. 

Use the most proper methods to retain that treasure of 
ideas which you have acquired; for the mind is ready 
to let many of them slip, unless some pains and labor 
be taken to fix them upon the memory. 

And more especially let those ideas be laid up and 
preserved with the greatest care, which are most 
directly suited, either to your eternal welfare as a 
Christian, or to your particular station and profession 
in this life ; for though the former rule recommends 
a universal acquaintance with things, yet it is but a 
more general and superficial knowledge that is required 
or expected of any man, in things which are utterly 



59 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

foreign to his own business; but it is necessary you 
should have a more particular and accurate acquaint- 
ance with those things that refer to your peculiar 
province and duty in this life, or your happiness in 
another. — Watts. 




COURAGE OF HOPE. 

'OPE is like the sun, which, as we journey 
towards it, casts the shadow of our burden be- 
hind us. One of the most cheerful and 
courageous, because one of the most hopeful of 
workers, was Carey, the missionary. When in India, 
it was no uncommon thing for him to weary out three 
pundits, who officiated as his clerks, in one day, he 
himself taking rest only in change of employment. 
Carey, himself the son of a shoemaker, was supported 
in his labors by Ward, the son of a carpenter, and 
Marshman, the son of a weaver. By their labors, a 
magnificent college was erected at Serampere; sixteen 
flourishing stations were established; the Bible was 
translated into sixteen languages, and the seeds were 
sown of a beneficent moral revolution in British India. 
Carey was never ashamed of the humbleness of his 
origin. On one occasion when at the Governor- 
General's table, he overheard an officer opposite him 



CHOOSE GOOD COMPANIONS. 60 

asking another loud enough to be heard, whether 
Carey had once been a shoemaker. " No, sir," ex- 
claimed Carey immediately, " only a cobbler." 

But to wait patiently, men must labor cheerfully. 
Cheerfulness and diligence are the life and soul of 
success, as well as happiness ; perhaps the very highest 
pleasure in life consisting in conscientious, brisk, hard 
working — energy, confidence, and every other good 
quality mainly depending upon it. 

Laborers for the public good, especially, have to 
work long and patiently, often uncheered by the pros- 
pect of immediate recompense or result. The seeds 
they sow often lie hidden under the winters snow, 
and before the spring comes, the husbandman may 
have gone to his rest. 



CHOOSE GOOD COMPANIONS. 

Y$n WO are better than one, and you will find it 
both protection and incentive if you can 
secure a faithful friend; and in some respects 
better than two are the many; therefore you cannot do 
more wisely than seek out in the Young Men's Society 
a wider companionship; and whilst instructed by the 
information of some, and strengthened by the firmer 
faith or larger experience of others, there are import 



61 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

ant themes on which you will learn to think with pre- 
cision, and in the exercise of public speaking you will 
either acquire a useful talent or will turn it to good 
account. — Hamilton. 




LOVE OF KNOWLEDGE 

"YDNEY SMITH, writing on this subject, uses 
the following language : " I solemnly declare, 
that but for the love of knowledge, I should 
consider the life of the meanest hedger and ditcher as 
preferable to that of the greatest and richest man in 
existence ; for the fire of our minds is like the fires 
which the Persians burn in the mountains, it flames 
night and day, and is immortal, and not to be 
quenched ! Upon something it must act and feed — 
upon the pure spirit of knowledge, or upon the foul 
dregs of polluting passions. Therefore, when I say, 
in conducting your understanding, love knowledge 
with a great love, with a vehement love, with a love 
co-eval with life — what do I say but love innocence, 
love virtue, love purity of conduct, love that which, 
if you are rich and great, will vindicate the blind 
fortune which has made you so, and make men call it 
justice ; love that which, if you are poor, will render 
your poverty respectable, and make the proudest feel 



LOVE OF KNOWLEDGE. 62 

it unjust to laugh at the meanness of your fortunes ; 
love that which will comfort you, adorn you, and 
never quit you — which will open to you the kingdom 
of thought, and all the boundless regions of concep- 
tion, as an asylum against the cruelty, the injustice, 
and the pain that may be your lot in the world — that 
which will make your motives habitually great and 
honorable, and light up in an instant a thousand noble 
disdains at the very thought of meanness and of 
fraud. 

" Therefore, if any young man has embarked his 
life in pursuit of knowledge, let him go in without 
doubting or fearing the event, let him not be intimi- 
dated by the cheerless beginnings of knowledge, by 
the darkness from which she springs, by the difficulties 
which hover around her, by the wretched habitations 
in which she dwells, by the want and sorrow which 
sometimes journey in her train ; but let him ever fol- 
low her as the angel that guards him, and as the 
genius of his life, she will bring him out at last into 
the light of day, and exhibit him to the world com- 
prehensive in acquirements, fertile in resources, rich 
in imagination, strong in reasoning, prudent and 
powerful above his fellows in all the relations and in 
til the offices of life." 

Different people love different kinds of knowledge ; 



63 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

but there are some who would like to excel in every- 
thing good. The mistake of many is in their trying 
to acquire knowledge which they do not love — in let- 
ting their ambition to excel overmaster them — and the 
result is that there are large numbers of half educated 
people in the world who are like the child and the 
apples. A gentleman bought a lot of apples, and 
offered one to a little child. It was pleased, and took 
it eagerly. He then offered it another, which it also 
grasped. He kept giving it the apples one after 
another, the child reaching for them just as fast as he 
offered them, until at last its little arms were full, and 
in reaching for the last one, all the others rolled on 
the ground. Then it cried. It had tried to grasp 
r\ore than it could hold. 




SELF-DENIAL. 

^HE lesson of self-denial is far beyond any other 
in importance. It must be repeated a thou- 
sand times over before it is really learnt by 
foeart, but oh, how worthy the pains! Happy is he 
who has learnt not to seek for what is pleasant, not to 
shrink from what is painful, but to go on doing every- 
thing that he knows to be good, and kind, and right, 



IDLENESS NOT HAPPINESS. 64 

in utter disregard of self. How a man might ennoble 
and invigorate his life if he would work this principle 
into the very grain of his mind, and strenuously act 
upon it, invariably striving not after what would be 
pleasantest ; but what would be best. In fact, it is the 
very essence of all that is good and great in human 
life ; and not only so, but it is the true road to happi- 
ness. This is doubtless what our Saviour means when 
he says that he that hath left home and brethren for 
his sake shall receive an hundred fold even in his life* 
— Charles Buxton. 




IDLENESS NOT HAPPINESS. 

^HE most common error of men and women is 
that of looking for happiness somewhere out- 
side of useful work. It has never yet been 
found when thus sought, and never will be while the 
world stands ; and the sooner this truth is learned the 
better for everyone. If you doubt the proposition, 
glance around among your friends and acquaintances, 
and select those who appear to have the most enjoy- 
ment in life. Are they the idlers and pleasure-seekers, 
or the earnest workers ? We know what your answer 
will be. Of all the miserable human beings it has 
been our fortune or misfortune to know, they were the 



65 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

most wretched who had retired from useful employ- 
ment to enjoy themselves ; while the slave at his 
enforced labor, or the hungry toiler for bread, were 
supremely happy in comparison. 




PROCRASTINATION. 

r RS. WHITNEY says, in one of her books, 
that " the things which are crowded out of a 
life are the test of that life," and we believe 
that the saying is true in its widest sense. Examine 
our lives closely, and we shall find that we constantly 
delude ourselves with the idea that we would accom- 
plish certain things if we had time, when, in truth, 
we have no real desire for those things. One person 
will say that reading is out of the question ; another 
will bewail the impossibility of maintaining social 
relations ; a third will avow that charitable or benevo- 
lent enterprises would delight her if she might engage 
in them ; and all the time these good people are com- 
forting themselves with a fallacy. The things for which 
they do find time are the things they prefer. The 
things which are crowded out are the things they 
would not choose if life lay unemployed before them. 
Scores of wives and mothers are busied constantly 



VALUE OF TIME. 66 

with their family cares, but not one in every score 
loves music enough to steal time for practice. Hun- 
dreds of young men are forced by stress of circum- 
stances to work hard for daily subsistence, but only 
one in a thousand, perhaps, conquers the difficulty of 
his position, and makes a name for himself. This one 
might not have found his way easier or its upward 
steps less tiresome, but he wanted to succeed, and so 
wanting, let nothing needful be crowded out. 



VALUE OF TIME. 

"OHN LOCKE, the English philosopher, was a 
favorite with many of the great noblemen of 
his age. They liked his robust sense and ready 
wit, and enjoyed even the sharp reproofs in which he 
occasionally indulged. On one occasion he had been 
invited to meet a select party at Lord Ashley's. When 
he came they were playing at cards, and continued 
absorbed in the game for two or three hours. 

For some time Locke looked on, and then began 
to write diligently in a blank book taken from his 
pocket. At length they asked him what he was writ- 
ing. He answered : 

u My lords, I am improving myself the best I can 



67 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

in your company; for, having impatiently waited this 
honor of being present at such a meeting of the wise 
men and great wits of the age, I thought I could not 
do better than write down your conversation, and here 
I have in substance all that has passed for this hour 
or two." 

The noble lords were so ashamed at the written 
record of their frivolous talk, that they at once stopped 
card-playing, and began the discussion of an import- 
ant subject. 

Thomas Carlyle has uttered even a more pungent 
reproof of idle talk : " If we can permit God Al- 
mighty," he says, " to write down our conversation, 
thinking it good enough for him, any poor Boswell 
need not scruple to work his will." 



? 



VALUE OF ODD MOMENTS. 

ff^LIHU BURRITT, the learned blacksmith, says: 

Jjl "All that I have accomplished, or expect, 

or hope to accomplish, has been and will 

be by that plodding, patient, persevering process 

of accretion which builds the ant-heap, particle by 

particle, thought by thought, fact by fact. If I was 



BEHIND TIME. 68 

ever actuated by ambition, its highest and warmest 
aspiration reached no further than the hope to set 
before the young men of my country an example in 
employing those invaluable fragments of time called 
odd moments 1 " 




BEHIND TIME. 

RAILROAD TRAIN was rushing along at 
almost lightning speed. A curve was just 
ahead, beyond which was a station at which 
the cars usually passed each other. The conductor 
was late, so late that the period during which the down 
train was to wait had nearly elapsed, but he hoped yet 
to pass the curve safely. Suddenly a locomotive 
dashed into sight right ahead. In an instant there 
was a collision. A shriek, a shock, and fifty souls 
were in eternity; and all because a conductor had been 
behind time. 

A great battle was going on. Column after column 
had been precipitated for eight mortal hours on the 
enemy posted along the ridge of a hill. The summer 
sun was sinking to the west, reinforcements for the 
obstinate defenders were already in sight; it was 
necessary to carry the position with one final charge, 
or everything would be lo? f 
5 



69 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

A powerful corps had been summoned from across 
the country, and if it came up in season, all would yet 
be well. The great conqueror, confident in its arrival, 
formed his reserve into an attacking column, and 
ordered them to charge the enemy. The whole world 
knows the result. Grouchy* failed to appear; the im- 
perial guard was beaten back; Waterloo was lost. 
Napoleon died a prisoner at St. Helena, because one 
of his marshals was behind time. 

A leading firm in commercial circles had long 
struggled against bankruptcy. As it had enormous 
assets in California, it expected remittances by a cer- 
tain day, and if the sums promised arrived, its credit, 
its honor, and its future prosperity would be preserved. 
But week after week elapsed without bringing the gold. 
At last came the fatal day on which the firm had bills 
maturing to enormous amounts. The steamer was 
telegraphed at daybreak ; but it was found, on inquiry, 
that she brought no funds, and the house failed. The 
next arrival brought nearly half a million to the in- 
solvents, but it was too late; they were ruined because 
their agent, in remitting, had been behind time. 

* Napoleon Bonaparte, Emperor of France, was defeated by 
the allies under the Duke of Wellington, at Waterloo, June 18, 
1815. Marshal Grouchy was expected to aid the Emperor with a 
body of troops, but failed to appear. 



BEHIND TIME. 70 

A condemned man was led out for execution. He 
had taken human life, but under circumstances of the 
greatest provocation, and public sympathy was active 
in his behalf. Thousands had signed the petition for 
a reprieve; a favorable answer had been expected the 
night before, and though it had not come, even the 
sheriff felt confident that it would yet arrive in season. 
Thus the morning passed without the appearance of 
the messenger. The last moment was up. The pri- 
soner took his place in the drop, the cap was drawn 
over his eyes, the bolt was drawn, and a lifeless body 
swung revolving in the wind. Just at that moment a 
horseman came into sight, galloping down hill, his 
steed covered with foam. He carried a packet in his 
right hand, which he waved rapidly to the crowd. He 
was the express rider with the reprieve. But he had 
come too late. A comparatively innocent man had 
died an ignominious death because a watch had been 
five minutes too slow, making its bearer arrive behind 
time. 

It is continually so in life. The best laid plans, the 
most important affairs, the fortunes of individuals, the 
weal of nations, honor, happiness, life itself, are daily 
sacrificed because somebody is " behind time." There 
are others who put off reformation year by year, till 
death seizes them, and they perish unrepentant, 



71 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

because forever "behind time." Five minutes in a 
crisis is worth years. It is but a little period, yet it 
has often saved a fortune or redeemed a people. If 
there is one virtue that should be cultivated more than 
another by him who would succeed in life, it is punc- 
tuality; if there is one error that should be avoided, it 
is being behind time. — Freeman Hunt. 



ONE BY ONE. 

One by one the sands are flowing, 
One by one the moments fall; 

Some are coming, some are going; 
Do not strive to catch them all. 

One by one thy duties wait thee; 

Let thy whole strength go to each; 
Let no future dreams elate thee; 

Learn thou first what these can teach 

One by one (bright gifts from heaven) 
Joys are sent thee here below; 

Take them readily when given — 
Ready, too, to let them go. 

One by one thy griefs shall meet thee; 

Do not fear an armed band; 
One will fade as others greet thee — 

Shadows passing through the land- 



LEARNING IN YOUTH. 72 

Do not laugh at life's long sorrow; 

See how small each moment's pain: 
God will help thee for to-morrow; 

Every day begin again. 

Every hour, that fleets so slowly, 

Has its task to do or bear; 
Luminous the crown, and holy, 

If thou set each gem with care. 

Hours are golden links — God's token 

Reaching heaven; but one by one, 
Take them, lest the chain be broken 

Ere thy pilgrimage be done, 

— Miss Proctor* 




LEARNING IN YOUTH. 

r ANIEL WEBSTER once told a good story in 
a speech, and was asked where he got it. " I 
have had it laid up in my head for fourteen 
years, and never had a chance to use it until to-day," 
said he. 

My little friend wants to know what good it will do 
to learn the " rule of three," or to commit a verse of 
the Bible. The answer is this : " Sometime you will 
need that very thing. Perhaps it may be twenty years 
before you can make it fit in just the right place ; but 



73 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

it will be just in place sometime. Then, if you don't 
have it, you will be like the hunter who had no ball in 
his rifle when a bear met him. 

" Twenty-five years ago my teacher made me study 
surveying," said a man who had lately lost his prop- 
erty, " and now I am glad of it. It is just in place, 
I can get a good situation and high salary." 




THE POWER OF KINDNESS. 

"URING the days of the French convention, 
Penel, the master of the lunatic asylum, de- 
sired permission to employ a new method for 
the recovery of its inmates. It was usual then to treat 
these helpless creatures as brutes ; to scourge them 
with stripes, to load them with chains, and fasten them 
securely to the floors of their cells. Hundreds were 
thus bound when Penel bethought him of a more ex- 
cellent way. He proposed to the convention a radical 
change of treatment ; especially he recommended that 
the insane be treated as patients, and be freed from 
their chains. While the convention yielded its con- 
sent, the president, M. Caithon, regarded the keeper 
as crazy. The day came for the experiment to be 
made, and the keeper released, first of all, a wretched 



LET BYGONES BE BYGONES. 74 

man who had been bound for forty years. This victim 
of ignorant cruelty did not destroy his benefactor, as 
Caithon had expected, but quietly staggered to the 
window of his cell, and, looking out through the tears 
that filled his eyes, on the placid sky, gently mur- 
mured, " Beautiful, oh ! how beautiful ! " 

Shall human kindness have such power to subdue 
and to rekindle the dying flame of reason, and heavenly 
grace be impotent to soften the hard heart and to be- 
get the life of righteousness ? No. I am persuaded 
when grace enters the dark prison-house of sin, and is 
permitted to break the fetters of iniquity, the freed 
soul, amazed at the matchless clemency, will not 
merely cry " Beautiful, beautiful," but, by the " beauty 
of holiness " clothing thought and deed, will show 
forth its increasing gratitude, love and praise. — Rev* 
George C. Lorimer, D. D. 



LET BYGONES BE BYGONES. 

ET bygones be bygones; if bygones were clouded 
By aught that occasioned a pang of regret, 
O, let them in darkest oblivion be shrouded: 
'Tis wise and 'tis kind to forgive and forget. 

Let bygones be bygones, and good be extracted 
From ill, over which it is folly to fret; 




SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

The wisest of mortals have foolishly acted — 
, The kindest are those who forgive and forget. 

Let bygones be bygones; O cherish no longer 
The thought that the sun of affection has set; 

Eclipsed for a moment, its rays will be stronger 
If you, like a Christian, forgive and forget. 

Let bygones be bygones, your heart will be lighter 
When kindness of yours with reception has met; 

The flame of your heart will be purer and brighter 
If, God-like, you strive to forgive and forget. 

Let bygones be bygones; O, purge out the leaven 

Of malice, and try an example to set 
To others, who, craving the mercy of heaven, 

Are sadly too slow to forgive and forget. 

Let bygones be bygones; remember how deeply 

To heaven's forbearance we all are in debt 1 
They value God's infinite goodness too cheaply 

To heed not the precept, " Forgive and Forget." 

— Chamber's Journal. 



THOUGHTLESSNESS OF YOUTH. 

"N general, I have no patience with people who 
talk about the " thoughtlessness of youth," in- 
dulgently. I had infinitely rather hear of 
thoughtless old age, and the indulgence due to that. 



WASHINGTON ON SWEARING. 76 

When a man has done his work, and nothing can in 
any way be materially altered in his fate, let him for- 
get his toil and jest with his fate, if he will; but what 
excuse can you fmd~ for willfulness of thought, at the 
very time when every crisis of future fortune hangs on 
your decisions? A youth thoughtless! when all the 
happiness of his home forever depends on the chances, 
or the passions of an hour! A youth thoughtless* 
when his every act is a foundation stone of future con- 
duct, and every imagination a fountain of life or 
death! Be thoughtless in any after years, rather than 
now — though indeed there is only one place where a 
man may be nobly thoughtless — his death-bed. No 
thinking should ever be left to be done there. — JZuskin. 




WASHINGTON ON SWEARING. 

r N- the 29th of July, 1779, one hundred year s 
ago, General Washington issued a special 
order, at West Point, in reference to the prac- 
tice of profanity: 

" Many and pointed orders have been issued against 
that unmeaning and abominable custom of swearing, 
notwithstanding which, with much regret, the Geneial 
observes that it prevails, if possible, more than ever ; 



77 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

nis feelings are continually wounded by the oaths and 
imprecations of the soldiers whenever he is in hearing 
of them. 

"The name of that Being from whose bountiful 
goodness we are permitted to exist and enjoy the com- 
forts of life, is incessantly imprecated and profaned 
in a manner as wanton as it is shocking. For the 
sake, therefore, of religion, decency and order, the 
General hopes and trusts that officers of every rank 
will use their influence and authority to check a vice 
which is as unprofitable as wicked and shameful. 

" If officers would make it an unavoidable rule to 
reprimand, and, if that does not do, punish soldiers 
for offences of this kind, it could not fail of having 
the desired effect." 



BEWARE OF LITTLE SINS. 

""T is a solemn thought this of the steady continu- 
ous aggravation of sin in the individual charac- 
ter. Surely nothing can be small which goes to 
make up that rapidly growing total. Beware of the 
little beginnings which " eat as doth a canker." Be- 
ware of the slightest deflection from the straight line 
of right. If there be two lines, one straight and the 
other going off at the sharpest angle, you have only to 



CONSCIENTIOUSNESS IN SMALL THINGS. 78 

produce both far enough, and there will be room 
between them for all the space that separates hell from 
heaven! Beware of lading your souls with the weight 
of small single sins. We heap upon ourselves by 
slow, steady accretion through a lifetime the weight, 
that though it is gathered by grains, crushes the soul. 
There is nothing heavier than sand. You may lift it 
by particles. It drifts in atoms, but heaped upon a 
man it will break his bones, and blown over the land 
it buries pyramid and sphynx, the temples of gods and 
the homes of men beneath its barren, solid waves. 
The leprosy gnaws the flesh off a man's bones, and 
joints and limbs drop off — he is a living death. So 
with every soul that is under the dominion of these 
lying desires — it is slowly rotting away piecemeal, 
" waxing corrupt according to the lusts of deceit." 



CONSCIENTIOUSNESS IN SMALL 
THINGS. 

WOMAN employed a man to paint a house 
she had just built. The painter was a mem- 
ber of a Christian church, active in the 
prayer-meeting and in church work, and apparently a 
man of exemplary piety. His work was seemingly 




79 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

well done, but it was afterwards discovered that he had 
slighted his work in places where he thought the 
neglect would not be noticed. His employer re- 
marked : " I have discounted that man's piety and 
prayers ever since. I prefer Christians who will fill 
up the nail holes with putty, and paint the tops of the 
doors in the upper story." " It has often seemed to 
us," says the Examiner ; " that this man was not an 
exceptional case. How many professed Christians 
fail to realize that piety has a connection with paint 
and putty — that the little things of life are the truest, 
as they are the severest tests of Christian character. 
Anyone who has to employ others to do work for him 
knows how rare it is to find a man or woman who is 
conscientious about small things; who never s scamps ' 
his work, and never wastes his employer's time or 
stock." The Examiner adds : 

"The cultivation of a greater conscientiousness 
with regard to the little things of everyday life, which 
are commonly considered to have no bearing on piety, 
is one of the almost universal needs, even among 
Christian people. The painter Opie replied to a 
query as to how he mixed his colors, ' With brains, 
sir.' The best type of Christian character must be 
that of the man who mixes his daily work with con- 
science, and strives to do everything, even the most 



EFFECTS OF WORRY. 80 

insignificant, as unto the Lord. Until this shall be the 
standard of everyday Christian living, there must be 
a great deal done in the way of discounting piety and 
prayers." — Christian Union. 




EFFECTS OF WORRY. 

^ORRYING is one of the great drawbacks to 
happiness. Most of it can be avoided if 
we only determine not to let trifles annoy 
us; for the largest amount of worrying is caused by 
the smallest trifles. 

A writer in Chambers' Journal says : " That the 
effects of worry are more to be dreaded than those of 
simple hard work, is evident from noting the class of 
persons who suffer most from the effects of overstrain. 
The case-book of the physician shows that it is the 
speculator, the betting man, the railway manager, the 
great merchant, the superintendent of large manufac- 
turing or commercial works, who most frequently ex- 
hibit the symptoms of cerebral exhaustion. Mental 
cases accompanied by suppressed emotion, occupa- 
tions liable to great vicissitudes of fortune, and those 
which involve the bearing on the mind of a multiplicity 
of intricate details, eventually break down the lives <>f 



81 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

the strongest. In estimating what may be called the 
staying powers of different minds under hard work, it 
is always necessary to take early training into account 
A young man, cast suddenly into a position involving 
great care and responsibility, will break down; whereas, 
had he been gradually habituated to this position, he 
would have performed its duties without difficulty. It 
is probably for this reason that the professional classes 
generally suffer less from the effects of overstrain than 
others. They have had a long course of preliminary 
training, and their work comes on them by degrees ; 
therefore, when it does come in excessive quantity, it 
finds them prepared for it. Those, on the other hand, 
who suddenly vault into a position requiring severe 
mental toil, generally die before their time." 



KEEP YOUR TEMPER. 

f OU will accomplish nothing by losing it. Many 
men date their failure in business to some 
hasty and ill-considered statement made during 
a fit of temper. When things go awry, business is 
dull, and the prospect is dark ahead, it is very poor 
consolation to indulge in passionate and angry remarks 
to those with whom you are associated. The frown 



TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD. 82 

on a man's face is a good indication of the state of the 
feelings within. The world judges men by their out- 
ward conduct and behavior, and ill-natured, cross- 
grained men rarely become successful. 

Solomon says : " He that is slow to anger is better 
than the mighty ; and he that ruleth his spirit than he 
that taketh a city ; " " Seest thou a man that is hasty 
in his words ? there is more hope of a fool than of 
him." Difficulties disappear when met calmly and 
resolutely ; they increase with ill-nature and anger. 
Keep your temper. 




TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD. 

^HE abuse which you pour forth on me will 
throw no light on our controversy, and the 
menaces with which you assail me will not 
hinder me from defending myself. You think that 
you have force and impunity on your side; but on 
mine I think that I have truth and innocence. A 
strange and long warfare it is, when violence endeav- 
ors to oppress truth. All the efforts of violence can 
avail nothing to weaken truth, and serve only to make 
it supreme. All the light of truth can avail nothing to 
arrest violence, and only provokes it the more. When 
force combats force, the stronger destroys the weaker; 



83 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

when arguments are opposed to arguments, the truer 
and more convincing confound and scatter those 
which rest only on vanity and falsehood; but violence 
and truth are powerless against each other. Yet think 
not that they are therefore on a level. Between them 
is this absolute difference, that the course of violence 
is limited by the decree of God, who compels it to 
promote the glory of the truth which it attacks; while 
truth subsists eternally, and finally triumphs over its 
enemies, because it is eternal and strong even as God 
himself. — Pascal. 

Truth is the most powerful thing in the world, since 
fiction can only please us by its resemblance to it. — 
Shaftesbury. 

Truth is its own evidence, as the lightning flash is, 
as the blessed sunshine is. — F. IV. Robertson. 



CHARACTERS. 

^OOKING over all the varieties of character with 
a view to classification, we find that some are 
the result mainly of conditions that are phys- 
ical. Mere temperament often determines the whole 
complexion of a life, explaining the characteristic dif- 




CHARACTERS. 84 

ferences between some men and others. One man, 
owing purely to physical conditions, is morbid and 
melancholy. He sees everything under a cloud. He 
looks naturally at the dark side of things. If you take 
him to the bright side, he brings a shadow with him 
and makes this side as gloomy as the other. Another 
man, blessed with a sanguine temperament, has a 
fountain of cheerfulness and hope within him. He 
looks naturally at the bright side; brightens even the 
dark side, when he comes round to it, by his own sun- 
shine. Whatever is naturally pleasant he rejoices in. 
He is a child of the light. Even if a disaster occur, 
he is glad that it is no worse. The Dutchman who 
fell from the ladder and broke his leg, and expressed 
to his distracted family his delight that it was not his 
neck, must have been a man of this type. Mr. 
Sanguine to every cloud sees a silver lining. If you 
consult him in misfortune, he says: "You will soon get 
over it. I'll tell you what to do." 

The gloomy man, on the other hand, says: "I told 
you it would come to this," and shakes his head por- 
tentously, as if he were satisfied that this is only the 
beginning of your troubles. To Mr. Croaker even 
pleasure is poisoned by the thought of how soon it 
may be taken away. If he finds you particularly 
jovial, it reminds him of a former occasion, on which 
6 



85 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

just such merriment was interrupted by some fearful 
intelligence. He hopes, with a portentous look, that 
it may not be so this time again. 

Mr. Croaker is peculiarly appropriate at a funeral; 
but woe betide the picnic or wedding party to which, 
in a moment of infatuation, he has been invited. The 
only hope lies in Mr. Sanguine being there also. Mr. 
Sanguine is always a refuge and wall of defense, whom 
you should take care to have with you in embarrassing 
circumstances or when called on to pass through some 
ordeal like that of having to inspect and give your 
verdict upon your friend's first baby. If you are sensi- 
tive, like some folk, you will find that a stiff trial. You 
go to the inspection aware, of course, that both father 
and mother regard this baby as one of the finest that 
has ever been born, and that they have been fortified 
in this conviction by the doctor. Now, if it should 
tnrn out to be an ugly little imp, what are you to say ? 
How are you to look ? Have Mr. Sanguine with you ? 
Mr. Sanguine will see something to admire in any 
baby that ever was born. If it is one of those lively 
infants that seem all on springs, Mr. Sanguine will 
cry : " What a fine fellow ! What life ! What energy ! " 
If it be one of those dull, torpid lumps of humanity 
that glare straight forward with a fishy glare, gorgon- 
izing you from head to foot, Mr. Sanguine will exclaim, 



CHARACTERS. 86 

w What a thoughtful child ! What steadiness ! What* 
brain ! " If the child had been born with a leg on the 
top of its head, Mr. Sanguine would instantly have 
been struck with the advantage this would give it, in 
the event of it tumbling wrong end down. — Rev. Davia 
Macrae. 

Character has many ways of manifesting itself; and 
those may be in the right who regard a man's chirog- 
raphy as one of these. Shelley, in one of his letters, 
passes judgment upon two of his brother poets, with 
this sort of testimony in view, as follows : " The hand- 
writing of Ariosto is a small, firm, and pointed char- 
acter, expressing, as I should say, a strong and keen, 
but circumscribed energy of mind ; that of Tasso is 
large, free and flowing, except that there is a checked 
expression in the midst of its flow, which brings the 
letters into a smaller compass than one expected from 
the beginning of the word. It is the symbol of an 
intense and earnest mind, exceeding at times its own 
depths, and admonished to return by the chilliness of 
the waters of oblivion striking upon its adventurous 
feet." It may be well for us all to remember that 
there are more open doors than we may imagine, 
through which scrutinizing eyes look in upon the 
secret places of our character. 



87 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

Men seek retreats for themselves — houses in the 
country, sea-shores, and mountains; and thou, too, art 
wont to desire such things very much. But this is 
altogether a work of the most common men ; for it is 
in thy power, whenever thou shalt choose, to retire into 
thyself. For nowhere, either with more quiet or more 
freedom from trouble, does a man retire than into his 
own soul, particularly when he has within him such 
thoughts, that by looking into them he is immediately 
in perfect tranquility. And I affirm that tranquility is 
nothing else than the good ordering of the mind. — 
" Thoughts " of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius. 

We are all sculptors and painters, and our material 
is our own flesh, and blood, and bones. Any noble- 
ness begins at once to refine a man's features ; any 
meanness or sensuality, to imbrute them. — Thoreau. 



As a storm following storm, and wave succeeding 
wave, give additional hardness to the shell that incloses 
the pearl, so do the storms and waves of life add force 
to the character of man. 



Feelings come and go like light troops following the 
victory of the present; but principles, like troops of 
the line, are undisturbed and stand fast. — Richter 



CHARACTERS. 88 

What a grand power is the power of thought ! And 
what a grand being is man when he uses it aright ; 
because, after all, it is the use made of it that is the 
important thing. Character comes out of thought ; or 
rather thought comes out of character. The particular 
thoughts are like the blossoms on the trees ; they tell 
of what kind it is, "As a man thinketh in his heart, 
so he is." — Sir W. Raleigh. 



A soul immortal, spending all her fires, 

Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness, 

Thrown into tumult, raptured, or alarmed, 

At aught this scene can threaten or indulge 

Resembles ocean into tempest wrought 

To waft a feather, or to drown a fly. — Young. 



The heart will commonly govern the head; and it 
is certain that any strong passion, set the wrong way, 
will soon infatuate even the wisest of men ; therefore 
the first part of wisdom is to watch the affections. — 
Dr. Watcrland. 

Modesty is to worth what shadows are in a painting ; 
she gives to it strength and relief. — La Bruucre. 



Actions, looks, words, steps, form the alphabet by 
which you may spell character. 



89 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

Every man stamps his value on himself. The price 
we challenge for ourselves is given us. There does 
not live on earth a man, be his station what it may, 
that I despise myself. Man is made great or little by 
his own will. — Schiller. 

« 
No man has come to true greatness who has not felt 

in some degree that his life belongs to his race, and 

what God gives him he gives him for mankind. — 

Phillips Brooks. 

Character is like bells which ring out sweet music, 
and which, when touched accidentally even, resound 
sweetly. 

Men seldom improve when they have no other 
models than themselves to copy after. — Goldsmith. 



You can not dream yourself into a character ; you 
must hammer and forge yourself one. — Froude. 



Never does a man portray his own character more 
vividly than in his manner of portraying another's. 



The key to every man is his thought. Casual 
thoughts are sometimes of great value. 



CHARACTERS. 90 

People that have their eyes opened will, at the very 
least, get their clothes washed. A neat, decent dress 
is often an early sign that a man is becoming careful 
who has hitherto been reckless ; and new talk, new 
tempers, new estimates of things, are garments of the 
spiritual man, that show he has become a new man. 

Christianity means to the merchant that he should 
be honest ; to the judge it means that he should be 
just ; to the servant, that he should be faithful ; to the 
school-boy, that he should be diligent ; to the street- 
sweeper, that he should sweep clean ; to every worker, 
that his work shall be well done. 



Conscience is the voice of the soul; the passions 
are the voice of the body. — J. J. Rousseau. 



Manner is one of the greatest engines of influence 
ever given to man. — Sunday Afternoon. 



Flattery is a false coin which has circulation only 
through our vanity. — La Rochefoucauld. 



How can we expect a harvest of thought who have 
not had a seed-time of character? 



91 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

No trait of character is rarer, none more admirable, 
than thoughtful independence of the opinions of 
others combined with a sensitive regard to the feelings 
of others. 



WISDOM AND GOODNESS. 

WOULD be good, I would be wise, 

For all men should. The wise man saith, 
" Folly is sin, and sin is death." 

But Fate denies 
What I demand for boons like these, 
If not a life, yet days of ease. 

Not in this world of noise and care 

Is Wisdom won, however wooed; 

She must be sought in solitude, 
With thought and prayer 1 
She will not hear my hasty cries; 
I have no leisure to be wise 1 

Who can be wise that can not fly 

These empty babblers, loud and vain; 
To whom there is no God but Gain ? 
Alas! not I. 

But this dark thought will still intrude, 

There needs no leisure to be good 1 



Goodness is the only happiness. — Socrates. 



WISDOM AND GOODNESS. 92 

If we can by honest effort change a wayworn 
thought to a manly purpose, encourage the halting 
mind to correct views, remove all prejudices, enkindle 
chaste desires, and strengthen a noble purpose, our 
efforts in life shall not be in vain. Feeble our efforts 
may be, as the breeze that kisses the mountain summit, 
yet it may be the morning breath that shall help on his 
mission of mercy, virtue and usefulness, some waiting 
pilgrim. 

Whoever sincerely endeavors to do all the good he 
can will probably do much more than he imagines, or 
will ever know to the day of judgment, when the 
secrets of all hearts shall be manifest. 



Better a cheap coffin and a plain funeral, after a 
useful, unselfish life, than a grand procession and a 
marble mausoleum, after a loveless, selfish life. 



To do good to men is the great work of life; to 
make them true Christians is the greatest good we can 
do them. — Dr. J. W. Alexander. 

If a man have love in his heart, he may talk in 
broken language, but it will be eloquence to those who 
listen. 



93 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

The best recipe for going through life in an exquisite 
way with beautiful manner, is to feel that everybody, 
no matter how rich or how poor, need all the kindness 
they can get from others in the world. 



There is as much greatness of mind in the owing of 
a good turn as in the doing of it, and we must no 
more force a requital out of season, than to be want- 
ing in it. — Seneca. 

Liberality, courtesy, benevolence, unselfishness, un- 
der all circumstances and toward all men — these quali- 
ties are to the world what the linchpin is to the rolling 
chariot. 

To return good for good, is civil courtesy; evil for 
evil, malicious policy; evil for good, hateful ingrati- 
tude; good for evil, true Christian charity. — Schlatter. 

Good men have the fewest fears. He has but one 
who fears to do wrong. He has a thousand who has 
overcome that one. 

The wisely good man seeks to connect others with 
him, by the influence of that which separates him from 
them. 



ENERGY AND COURAGE. 94 

A cunning man is never a firm man, but an honest 
man is; a double-minded man is always unstable, a 
man of faith is firm as a rock; honesty is faith applied 
to worldly things, and faith is honesty quickened by 
the Spirit to the use of heavenly things. — Edward 
Irving. 



To fill the sphere which Providence appoints is true 
wisdom; to discharge trusts faithfully and live exalted 
ideas, that is the mission of good men. 



ENERGY AND COURAGE. 

^rr NERGY enables a man to force his way through 
lljj H irksome drudgery and dry details, and carries 
him onward and upward in every station in 
life. It accomplishes more than genius. Energy of 
will may be defined to be the very central power of 
character in a man — in a word, it is the Man himself. 
True hope is based on it — and it is hope that gives the 
real perfume to life. No blessing is equal to the pos- 
session of a stout heart. Charles IX., of Sweden, 
was a firm believer in the power of will, even in a 
youth. Laying his hand on the head of his youngest 
son, when engaged upon a difficult task, he exclaimed, 



35 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

4€ He shall do it! he shall do it! " Nothing that is o\ 
real worth can be achieved without courageous work- 
ing. The timid and hesitating find everything impos- 
sible, chiefly because it seems so. The Scriptural 
injunction, " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it 
with all thy might," must be realized if you wish to 
succeed. It is pluck, tenacity, and determined perse- 
verance which wins soldiers' battles, and, indeed, every 
battle. It is the one neck nearer that wins the race 
and shows the blood; it is the one march more that 
wins the campaign; the five minutes' more persistent 
courage that wins the fight. Though your force be 
less than another's, you equal and out-master your 
opponent if you continue it longer and concentrate it 
more. The reply of the Spartan father, who said to 
his son, when complaining that his sword was too 
short, " Add a step to it," is applicable to everything 
in life. — Smiles. 



FORCE OF PURPOSE. 

T is will — force of purpose — that enables a man 
to do or be whatever he sets his mind on being 
or doing. No one ardently wishes to be sub- 
missive, patient, modest, or liberal, who does not 
become what he wishes. 



FORCE OF PURPOSE. 96 

"You are now at the age," said Lammenais once, 
addressing a gay youth, " at which a decision must be 
formed by you; a little later, and you may have to 
groan within the tomb which yourself have dug, with- 
out the power of rolling away the stone. That which 
the easiest becomes a habit in us is the will. Learn 
then to will strongly and decisively; thus fix your float- 
ting life, and leave it no longer to be carried hither 
and thither, like a withered leaf, by every wind that 
blows." 

Buxton held the conviction that a young man might 
be very much what he pleased, provided he formed a 
strong resolution and held to it. Writing to one of his 
own sons, he once said, " You are now at that period 
of life in which you must make a turn to the right or 
the left. You must now give proofs of principle, de- 
termination, and strength of mind; or you must sink 
into idleness, and acquire the habits and character of 
a desultory, ineffective young man; and if once you 
fall to that point, you will find it no easy matter to 
rise again. I am sure that a young man may be very 
much what he pleases. In my own case it was so. 
* * * * Much of my happiness, and all my pros- 
perity in life, have resulted from the change I made at 
your age. If you seriously resolve to be energetic and 
industrious, depend upon it that you will for your 



97 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

whole life have reason to rejoice that you were wise 
enough to form and to act upon that determination." 
As will, considered without regard to direction, is 
simply constancy, firmness, perseverance, it will be 
obvious that everything depends upon right direction 
and motives. Directed towards the enjoyment of the 
senses, the strong will may be a demon, and the intel- 
lect merely its debased slave; but directed towards 
good, the strong will is a king, and the intellect is then 
Khe minister of man's highest well-being. 

" Where there is a will there is a way," is an old and 
true saying. He who resolves upon doing a thing, by 
that very resolution often scales the barriers to it, and 
secures its achievement. 

To think we are able, is almost to be so — to 
determine upon attainment, is frequently attain- 
ment itself. Thus, earnest resolution has often seemed 
to have about it almost a savor of omnipotence. The 
strength of Suwarrow's character lay in his power of 
willing, and, like most resolute persons, he preached it 
up as a system. " You can only half will," he would 
say to people who failed. Like Richelieu and Napo- 
leon, he would have the word " impossible " banished 
from the dictionary. "I don't know," "I can't," and 
" impossible," were words which he detested above all 
others. "Learn! Do! Try! " he would exclaim. His 



PROMPTITUDE AND DECISION. 98 

biographer has said of him, that he furnished a re- 
markable illustration of what may be effected by the 
energetic development and exercise of faculties, the 
germs of which at least are in every human heart. 



PROMPTITUDE AND DECISION. 

tT NERGY usually displays itself in promptitude 
and decision. When Ledyard, the traveler, 
was asked by the African Association when he 
would be ready to set out for Africa, he promptly an- 
swered, " To-morrow morning/' Blucher's prompti- 
tude obtained for him the cognomen of " Marshal 
Forwards " throughout the Prussian army. When 
John Jervis, afterwards Earl St. Vincent, was asked 
when he would be ready to join his ship, he replied, 
" Directly." And when Sir Colin Campbell, appointed 
to the command of the Indian army, was asked when 
he could set out, his answer was, " To-morrow w — an 
earnest of his subsequent success. For it is rapid de- 
cision, and a similar promptitude in action, such as 
taking instant advantage of an enemy's mistakes, that 
so often wins battles. " Every moment lost," said 
Napoleon, "gives an opportunity for misfortune;" 
and he used to say that he beat the Austrians because 



99 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

they never knew the value of time; while they 
dawdled, he overthrew them. In many positions in 
life, "he who hesitates is lost." Endeavor, there- 
fore, to be prompt and decisive in answer and action. 
Lack of decision has been the ruin of thousands of 
business men; while they considered, others acted, 
and so secured the advantage. 



Decision of character is the one bright, golden 
apple, which every young man should strive in the 
beginning to pluck from the tree of life. — Foster. 



Deeds always overbalance, and downright practice 
speaks more plainly than the fairest profession. 



RICHES AND REFINEMENT. 

"T is a great mistake to confound riches and re- 
finement, just as it is a great mistake to fancy 
that because a man is poor, he must be coarse 
and vulgar. Lord Jefferies, though seated in the 
highest tribunal in the realm, while pouring forth his 
brutal ribaldry, was a vulgar man ; and a very vulgar 
man was Chancellor Thurlow, spouting oaths and 
obscenity at the table of the Prince of Wales. Bu» 



THE STRENGTH OF SILENCE. 100 

there was no vulgarity about James Ferguson, though 
herding sheep, while his eye watched Arcturus and the 
Pleiades, and his wistful spirit wandered through im- 
mensity ; and, though seated at a stocking loom, there 
was no vulgarity in the youth who penned " The Star 
of Bethlehem ; " the weaver boy, Henry Kirkewhite F 
was not a vulgar lad. — jfames Hamilton. 




THE STRENGTH OF SILENCE. 

^HERE is a mighty power in silence, and silence 
is frequently an evidence of power. There 
are many men so weak that they can not hold 
their tongues, or keep their mouths shut. The man 
who offends not in word is a perfect man, able to bridle 
the whole body. He who can control his tongue, can 
control his entire nature. Hence silence is a token of 
power, of reserved force. He who knows how to keep 
silence knows how to speak ; and often his silence i& 
more impressive than his speech. " Brilliant flashes 
of silence " is by no means a senseless expression. 
How often have we seen the babble of the foolish 
hushed by the silent glance of an earnest soul ; how 
often the ribald jest or scurrilous word has died upon 
the lips when an indignant silence was the only reply 

7 



101 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

it could evoke. That man or that woman who can 
stand silent amid reproaches and accusations and 
sneers and scoffs, shows a degree of strength and 
power which falls not to the lot of every one. 

The silent accomplish more than the noisy. The 
tail of the rattlesnake makes all the noise, but the 
head does all the execution. 




CORRECT SPEECH. 

^OTHING bespeaks a true lady and gentleman 
or well-bred child more than the use of cor- 
rect language, pure, clean speech. Cultivate 
my young friends, good English in every-day conver- 
sation. Unclean speech ^ in keeping with a smutty 
face, begrimed hands, and soiled clothes. Strange, 
how easy and almost unconsciously one slides into a 
careless slipshod way of talking, even when the rules 
of grammar are quite familiar. It is not uncommon 
to find people learned in all the rules of syntax who 
apply them to the art of writing, yet habitually talk 
incorrectly. 

Early culture and association with refined persons 
are quite essential to give purity to speech ; but if one 



COARSENESS. 102 

has been unfortunately deprived of these, he should 
continually watch his words till he gets in the habit of 
using decent English, for nothing so unmistakably 
marks one with vulgarity, no matter how elegant is the 
outside covering, as shabby, low-born speech. 




COARSENESS. 

NY lack of refinement in one's manner, or any 
incivility in one's ordinary personal address, 
ought certainly to be a matter of regret to the 
person whose daily life displays such a defect. But it 
is by no means uncommon for men and women to 
think, or to pretend they think, that rudeness of man- 
ner and neglect of the courtesies of life are evidences 
of a strong character; and that a coarse and uncivil 
habit of speech is an admirable proof that the speaker 
is a "plain, blunt man," who is above shams and pre- 
tences. 

Now, while coarseness may exist along with strength 
of character and righteousness of life, it is always a 
Flemish to them, and never a help. 

Every one who is trying to lead a good life, should 
also try to lead a winsome and courteous life. By 
abandoning gentleness of disposition and graciousness 



103 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

of word and deed, he throws away a means of growth 
and an effective weapon. It is almost always a grave 
mistake, in a matter of manners, or in any other 
matter, to try to put yourself on other people's level. 
If you are trying to do right, the chances are that, by 
adopting a coarse manner of speech or action, you will 
degrade yourself, and will fail in the good you seek. 
Rude and rough people are ready to excuse themselves 
for their own coarseness ; but, after all, they despise it 
in those who are striving to instruct and help them. 

Cleanness and brightness and winsomeness, in 
thought and word and deed and manner and material 
surroundings, are always ready to help what is good. 
Coarseness and dinginess and ugliness are evils that 
must sometimes be endured, but ought never to be 
defended as virtues in themselve' 



READY MEN. 

'EADY MEN are generally witty men, and they 
are almost always talkative men. What Lord 
Bacon said two hundred years ago has never 
been contradicted. Reading makes a full man, con- 
ference a ready man, and writing an exact man, and 
accordingly, the nations that are most talkative are 




READY MEN. 104 

those that have most wit and most readiness. We 
count Lamb and Thackeray among the foremost of our 
humorists; but poor Elia, though matchless in the say- 
ing of good things, could rarely get them out fast, and 
Thackeray himself says that he thought of his own 
generally when he was in bed. With all his taste for 
society, he could never make a good after-dinner 
speech, and often envied Dickens his rare and valuable 
faculty. And yet he did in his life say some very good 
things. When he paid his first visit to America it was 
known of him that he was very fond of oysters, and, 
at a dinner given in his honor, the largest oyster that 
the place provided — quite an abnormal oyster, in 
point of size — was placed before him. He said him- 
self that he turned pale when he saw it, but that he ate 
it in silence. His host asked him how he felt after, 
" Profoundly thankful," said Thackeray; " I feel as if 
I had swallowed a baby." 

The rarest recorded instance of readiness was un- 
doubtedly that of Foote, the comedian. He had given 
offence to a famous duellist of the day, who had vowed 
vengeance, and was only waiting to meet the luckless 
actor. Foote was told of it, and kept out of his way 
for a long time. At last they met at an inn where 
the actor generally dined, and where the duellist hap- 
pened quite casually to come in. Foote saw his dan- 



105 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

ger when it was too late; but, as his enemy said noth- 
ing, did his best to entertain him and keep him in 
good humor. No one could be more diverting when 
he choose, and here he was not only very anxious but 
very successful. He told one story after another. He 
kept the table in a roar. The fire-eater became quite 
pacific, and was delighted with his new friend. Foote 
passed from one good story to another, and at last took 
to imitating different people, a practice for which he 
had extraordinary facility. The other guests got quite 
uproarious with the fun, when suddenly the luckless 
actor saw irom the face of his enemy that he had in- 
advertently imitated one of his friends. The duellist 
was, in fact, putting his hand in his pocket to pull out 
a card and present it as the preliminary to a challenge, 
when he turned round to the mimic and said in a dry, 
satiric voice, " Really, Mr. Foote, you are so uncom- 
monly clever in taking other people off, I wonder 
whether you could take yourself off." " Oh, certainly," 
said Foote, and he walked straightway into the street. 
Here his readiness, probably, saved him his life. 

It is noticeable how the characters of mind and 
body correspond, and how the ready man is generally 
quick in his movements, prompt in action and fertile 
in resource. The great Napoleon used to say that no 
quality was so rare or so valuable as (what he called) 



TIMELY JESTS. 106 

two-o'clock-in-the-morning courage. The power of 
suddenly changing front and altering the whole scheme 
of a campaign was precisely what the greatest of all 
modern strategists would admire. He himself emin- 
ently possessed it. The man who had the wit to say 
to the aristocrat who taunted him with his lack of 
ancestry, " Moi,je suis ancetrc" possessed a readiness 
of words as well as of action. He was not likely to 
lose either his head or his tongue. But this kind of 
promptitude is rarely coupled with staying power. It 
is distinctly meteoric, and part of the brilliancy is due 
to the gloom which follows it. And, therefore, the 
nations who most possess it are also purposeless, and 
without reserve of force. 




TIMELY JESTS. 

r ANY a promotion has been secured by a 
timely jest. The New York Times relates 
several of these happy " hits: " 
Marshal Junot, while still a young subaltern, attract- 
ed the attention of the commander-in-chief by coolly 
observing, as an Austrian shell scattered earth over 
the despatch which he was writing, at the latter's 
dictation, " It's very kind of them to 'sand' our letters 
for us." 



107 • SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

The traditions of the English navy have preserved 
another instance of the kind well worth quoting. 
When the Duke of Clarence, afterward William IV., 
went down to Portsmouth to inspect the British 
Seventy-fours, the guide allotted to him was a battered 
old lieutenant with one eye, who, lacking a " friend at 
court," had served for years without promotion. 

As the veteran removed his hat to salute the royal 
visitor, the latter remarked his baldness, and said, 
jestingly, " I see my friend, you have not spared your 
hair in your country's service." 

" Why, your Royal Highness," answered the old 
salt, " so many young fellows have stepped over my 
head that it's a wonder I have got any hair left." 

The duke laughed loudly at this professional joke, 
but he made a note of the old man's name at the same 
time, and a few days after the latter received his ap- 
pointment as captam. 



THE STEADY AND SOBER SUCCEED. 

'OWEVER nrach people may propound to the 
contrary, the steady and sober men are to 
rise, and be respected, while the dissolute and 
disorderly must sink and disappear. And though there 
is in many quarters a prejudice against piety — though 




COURAGE IN SICKNESS. 108 

some employers prefer workmen with easy principles 
and pliant consciences — no business can long prosper 
without probity, and no employer can become perma- 
nently rich with rogues for his servants. Hence, in all 
extensive and protracted undertakings, principle will 
undoubtedly win for itself an eventual preference; and 
the workman who understands his trade and keeps his 
character, may not only expect to keep his place, but 
perhaps become one day a partner in the establish- 
ment. If you won't tell a falsehood for your employer, 
neither will you waste his materials nor pilfer his 
property. And if you are not a sycophant in the 
slackest times, you will not be sauciest in the busiest ; 
but, seeking first to please your Master in Heaven, you 
will find yourself rewarded with the goodwill and con- 
fidence of your superiors on earth. — Hamilton. 



COURAGE IN SICKNESS. 

y HE London Lancet, in a few words of good 
advice to sick people, says : " With the aid or 
under the influence of pluck, and using that 
term in a modern sense, and in relation to the daily 
heroism of life in the midst of difficulties, it is possible 
not only to surmount what appear to be insuperable 




JL09 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

obstructions, but to defy and repel the ennuities of 
climate, adverse circumstances, and even disease. 
Many a life has been saved by the moral courage of a 
sufferer. It is not alone in bearing the pain of opera- 
tions or the misery of confinement in a sick-room, this 
self-help becomes of vital moment, but in the monoto- 
nous tracking of a weary path, and the vigorous dis- 
charge of ordinary duty. How many a victim of 
incurable disease has lived on through years of suffer- 
ing, patiently and resolutely hoping against hope, or, 
what is better, living down despair, until the virulence 
of a threatening malady has died out, and it has 
ceased to he destructive, although its physical charac- 
teristics remained ? 

" This power of ' good spirits * is a matter of high 
moment to the sick and weakly. To the former it 
may mean the ability to survive ; to the latter, the 
possibility of outliving, or living in spite of, a disease. 
It is, therefore, of the greatest importance to cultivate 
the highest and most buoyant frame of mind which 
the conditions will admit. The same energy which 
takes the form of mental activity is vital to the work 
of the organism. Mental influences affect the system, 
and a joyous spirit not only relieves pain, but increases 
the momentum of life in the body. 

"The multitude of healthy persons who wear out 



HOW TO READ. 110 

their strength by exhaustive journeys and perpetual 
anxieties for health is very great, and the policy in 
which they indulge is exceedingly short-sighted. Most 
of the sorrowful and worried cripples who drag out 
miserable lives in this way, would be less wretched and 
live longer if they were more hopeful. It is useless to 
expect that anyone can be reasoned into a lighter 
frame of mind, but it is desirable that all should be 
taught to understand the sustaining, and often even 
curative power of ' good spirits.' " 



HOW TO READ. 

"N answer to the question, How a young man shall 
read to the best advantage? — he should select 
some particular department of knowledge which 
he feels interesting, and within this department he 
should read carefully and studiously. If he only once 
make this selection, and make it rightly, other things 
will adjust themselves. He will not need very definite 
rules, nor will he need to concern himself about strict 
conformity with what rules he may have. The varied 
and desultory reading in which he may indulge will 
adapt itself in various ways to the main intellectual 
interest of his life. It will appropriate to its purpose 



Ill SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

the most stray information, while again the vivid 
central fire of his intellectual being will cast a light 
and meaning often around the most desultory par- 
ticulars. 

It may not seem easy to make such a choice; but 
every one more or less unconsciously makes it. The 
important matter is to recognize it to yourselves, and 
to build up your intellectual education upon it; because 
it can be really built up in no other manner. It is 
only by studying some particular subject with a view 
to mastering it, or some parts of it, that you can ever 
acquire a really studious insight and power. Nothing 
will enable you to realize your mental gifts, and to feel 
yourselves in the free and useful possession of them, 
like the triumph of bringing within your power and 
making your own some special subject. — Abridged 
fro7ti Tulloch. 



WHAT TO READ. 

"OME books are to be tasted, others to be swal- 
lowed, and some few to be chewed and di- 
gested. 

If this was true in Lord Bacon's time, how much 
more so is it in a time like ours, when books have 
multiplied beyond all precedent in the world's history. 




WHAT TO READ. 112 

It has become, in fact, a task beyond the power of any 
man to keep up, as it is said, with the rapidly-accumu- 
lating productions -of literature, in all its branches. 
To enter a vast library, or even ona of comparatively 
modest dimensions, such as all our large towns may 
boast, and survey the closely-packed shelves — the 
octavos rising above quartos, and duodecimos above 
both — is apt to fill the mind with a sense of oppression 
at the mere physical impossibility of ever coming in 
contact with such multiplied sources of knowledge. 
The old thought, Ars longa, vita brevis, comes home 
with a sort of sigh to the mind. Many lives would be 
wasted in the vain attempt. The inspection of a large 
library certainly cannot be recommended to inspire 
literary ambition. The names that shine in the hori- 
zon of fame are but specks amid the innumerable un- 
known that look down from the same eminence of 
repose. 

Lord Macaulay has spoken especially of an " emi- 
nent soldier and distinguished diplomatist who has 
enjoyed the confidence of the first generals and states- 
men which Europe has produced in our day," and who 
confessed that his success in life was mainly owing to 
his advantageous position when a young man, in the 
vicinity of a library. " When I asked to what he owed 
his accomplishments and success, he said to me, 



113. SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

'When I served when a young man in India — when it 
was the turning-point in my life — when it was a mere 
chance whether I should become amere card-playing, 
hooka-smoking lounger — I was fortunately quartered 
for two years in the neighborhood of an excellent 
library, which was made accessible to me.' " 

The influence of books at a certain stage of life is 
more than can be well estimated. The principles 
which they inculcate, the lessons which they exhibit, 
the ideals of life and character which they portray, 
root themselves in the thoughts and imaginations of 
young men. They seize them with a force which to 
after years appears scarcely possible. And when their 
faculties in mere restlessness might consume them- 
selves in riotous frivolity and self-indulgence, they 
often receive in communion with some true and earn- 
est book a right impulse which turns them to safety, 
happiness and honor. 

The task of selection perhaps might be fairly left to 
individual taste and judgment. 

Books may be classified conveniently enough in 
four divisions: 

i. Philosophical and Theological, 

2. Historical. 

3. Scientific. 

4. Books of Poetry and Fiction. 



WHAT TO READ. 114 

The young man in the full flush of his opening 
powers is naturally drawn to the examination and dis- 
cussion of the highest problems that concern his 
being and happiness. There is a sanguine daring of 
speculation in the fresh and inexperienced mind 
which dashes at questions before which the veteran 
philosopher, warned by many defeats, sadly recoils. 
It may be often very useless in its results this youth- 
ful speculation, but, if not altogether misdirected, it 
may prove the most precious training. The mind 
rises, from its very defeats in such service, more 
vigorous and more elastic. 

The great work of Locke on the " Human Under- 
standing," every young man who has a love for specu- 
lation, ought to study; at any rate, he should master 
his small work on the " Conduct of the Understand- 
ing; " and to make even this little treatise his own 
thoroughly, and enter into all its meaning, he will find 
a most bracing and wholesome mental exercise. 

A knowledge of theological literature is the busi- 
ness of the professed theologian. It can only be pos- 
sible to others in rare circumstances. But every 
thinking man should know something of theology, 
and there are young minds that will by an irresistible 
impulse seek their main intellectual discipline in the 
reading of theological authors. 



115 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

There are three great writers, each marking a cen- 
tury, we may say, of our past English theology, that 
may be very confidently recommended to the study oi 
young men. These writers are Butler, Leighton, and 
Hooker. Butler, a master of theological argument, 
strong in logic, calm in spirit, comprehensive in aim. 
Leighton, like Pascal, a genius in religious meditation, 
deep, reflective, yet quick, sensitive, and tender — the 
beau-ideal of a Christian muser; never losing hold of 
the most practical duties in the most ethereal flights 
of his quaint and holy imagination. Hooker, a 
thinker of transcending compass, sweeping in the 
range of his imperial mind the whole circumference of 
Christian speculation — rising with the wings of bold- 
ness to the heights of the Divine government, and yet 
folding them with the sweetest reverence before the 
Throne. There are many other great names in Eng- 
lish theological literature, but there are none greater 
than these. 

Every young man should give his earnest attention 
to the reading of Scripture. Let him not suppose that 
he can easily know all that it contains. Let him not 
be contented to read a chapter now and then, rather 
as a duty than as a living interest and education. No 
reading should be so interesting to him ; none, cer- 
tainly, can form to him so high an education. It is 



WHAT TU READ. 116 

not only his Christian intelligence and sensibility that 
will be everywhere drawn forth in the perusal of its 
blessed pages, but his taste, his imagination and reason 
will be exercised and regaled in the highest degree. 
Its poetry is, beyond all other poetry, incomparable, 
not only in the height of its Divine arguments, as 
Milton suggests, but in " the very critical art of com- 
position." Its narratives are models of simplicity and 
graphic life. It abounds in almost every species of 
literary excellence and intellectual sublimity. It is, 
above all, the inspired Word of God — the source of all 
spiritual truth and illumination. Whatever you read, 
therefore, do not forget to read the Bible. Let it be 
as the "man of your counsel, and the guide of your 
right hand," as a " light to your feet, and a lantern to 
your path." "The law of the Lord is perfect, con- 
verting the soul ; the testimony of the Lord is sure, 
making wise the simple ; the statutes of the Lord are 
right, rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the 
Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes." " Wherewithal 
shall a young man cleanse his way ? By taking heed 
thereto according to thy word." 

Of the many great historical works which our age 
has produced, there are some so popular and univer- 
sally read that it is needless to recommend them. 
Macaulay's wonderful volumes, as they successively 



117 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

appeared, carried captive the minds of old and 
young. 

The works of Hallam, of Thirl wall and Grote, of 
Milman and Prescott, of Froude and of Motley, show 
in their mere enumeration what a field lies before the 
student here. The careful study of any one of these 
histories is an education in itself; and there is no 
mental task could be recommended as more appro- 
priate and more valuable to the young man. To read 
them as a whole is never an easy matter ; and it will 
be found, in point of fact, they are but rarely read 
and studied so completely as they ought to be. The 
young man cannot brace himself to any higher effort, 
or one more likely to tell upon his whole intellectual 
life. The study of such works as we have mentioned, 
or of many others that might be mentioned — Claren- 
don^ graphic pages — Gibbon's magnificent drama — 
may serve to date an epoch in his educational devel- 
opment. Many can recall how the perusal of such a 
masterpiece as Gibbon's " Decline and Fall of the 
Roman Empire " served to raise the conception of 
what the human mind could do, and left an indelible 
impress on the intellectual character. 

In studying such works the aim should be to master 
them, and if possible their subject, so thoroughly as 
to be able to exercise a free judgment as to what you 



WHAT TO READ. 118 

read. To read merely that you may repeat the views 
of the historian, or perhaps imbibe his prejudices, is 
a poor and even an injurious result. You must read 
rather that you may understand his subject; and if he 
is really a great historian, he will enable you to do 
this to some extent independently of his own repre- 
sentations. Using his pages, you must yet look 
through them, and endeavor to realize the course of 
facts for yourself. Especially aim, by an active sym- 
pathy and intelligent perception of what is going on 
around you — of the history that is being daily wrought 
out under your eyes and in your own experience — to 
get some living apprehension of the past, some real 
understanding of its great events and characters, its 
social manners, its laws, institutions, and modes of 
government, the condition of the people in their dif- 
ferent ranks and relations, the interior of their family 
life, their diet, their industry, and their amusements. 
It is but recently that historians have recognized the 
necessity of treating some of these topics, but it is 
becoming more and more evident that it is such topics, 
and not the mere details of battles or of royal doings, 
that form the real staple of history. Whatever con- 
tributes to unveil the past, to make it an intelligible 
reality and not a mere shadowy picture, is the right 
material of history; and its highest use is to give such 



119 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

an insight into the past as may happily guide and 
influence the future. 

Of all departments of knowledge, indeed, that of 
popular science may be said to be making the most 
advance. 

Sir John Herschel, Sir David Brewster, Hugh Millei, 
Mr. Lewes, Mr. Hunt, and others, have all written of 
science so as to interest any but the most indifferent 
minds. And the young student who would follow ou" 
such studies will find in the writings of these well- 
known authors at once their plainest and their highest 
guides. Such works as those of Hugh Miller on 
geology, and Mr. Lewes's " Sea-side Studies," and 
Professor Johnston's " Chemistry of Common Life," 
and Mr. Faraday's " Lectures for the Young," not to 
mention others, show how numerously books lie to his 
hand in this department of study. 

In such studies let it be your aim. not merely to 
accumulate facts, nor store your memories with details, 
but also to grasp principles. It is from lack of doing 
this that many minds turn away in weariness fro*a 
scientific pursuits. 

Youthful study advances under a spur of poet.c 
enthusiasm more than anything else. Carry this 
enthusiasm with you into the study of nature. Learn 
to appreciate i*? beauties, to admire its harmonies, as 



WHAT TO READ. 120 

yeu explore its secrets. This is surely the natural 
result that should follow an increased acquaintance 
with scientific facts. The more nature is studied, the 
more should all its poetry appear. 

Books of Poetry and Fiction are the last class that 
we have enunciated. In many respects they are the 
most important. 

Looking to the moral effect of our modern poetry 
and fiction upon the young, there is nothing more de- 
serving of commendation than the increased spirit of 
human sympathy for which they are remarkable. The 
literature of the last age was especially defective in 
this respect. It lacked genial tenderness or earnest 
sympathy for human suffering and wrong. Its very 
pathos was hard and artificial. It wept over imaginary 
sorrows; it rejoiced in merely sentimental triumphs. 
In contrast to this, the poetry and fiction of our time 
concern themselves closely with the common sorrows 
and joys of the human heart. The pages of Dickens 
and Kingsley, and Miss Mulock and Mrs. Gaskell, and 
Mrs. Oliphant and George Eliot, are all intensely real- 
istic. A deep-thoughted tenderness for human mis- 
eries, and a high aspiration after human improvement, 
animate all of them. It is impossible to read their 
novels without having our moral sentiments acutely 
touched and drawn forth. The same is eminently true 



121 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

of the poetry of Mr. Tennyson, Mrs. Browning, and 
others. It is almost more than anything characterized 
by a spirit of impassioned philanthropy, of intense 
yearning over worldly wrong and error, "ancient 
forms of party strife," and of lofty longing after a 
higher good than the world has yet known — 

" Sweeter manners, purer laws, 
The larger heart, the kindlier hand." 

It is impossible for the young to love such poetry and 
to study it without a kindling in them of something of 
the same affectionate interest in human welfare and 
aspiration after human improvement. 

Of course, they will read what is most popular and 
interesting. There is one writer, however, neither a 
poet nor a novelist, and yet in some respects both, 
whom we feel urged to commend to their study — the 
author of " Friends in Council," " Essays written in 
the Intervals of Business," and " Companions of my 
Solitude," etc. These volumes are charming, at once 
for their literary finish, their genial earnestness, and 
their thoughtful, ethical spirit. 

We should further urge upon young men the neces- 
sity of extending their studies in the lighter depart- 
ments of literature beyond their own age. They must 
and will reap mainly, as we have supposed, the fiction 
and poetry of their time, but in order to get any 



WHAT TO READ. J22 

adequate culture from this sort of reading they must 
do something more. They must study English poetry 
in its successive epochs, ascending by such stages as 
are represented by the great names of Wordsworth, 
and Cowper, and Dryden, and Milton, and Shak- 
speare, and Spenser. To study thoroughly the great 
works of any of these poets, especially of Wordsworth, 
or Milton, or Shakspeare, or Spenser, is a lasting edu- 
cational gain. Any youth who spends his leisure over 
the pages of the " Excursion," or the " Paradise Lost/' 
or the " Fairy Queen," or the higher dramas of Shak- 
speare, is engaged in an important course of intellec- 
tual discipline. And if you would wish to know the 
charms of literary delight in their full freedom and 
acquisition, you must have often recourse to these 
great lights of literature, and seek to kindle your love 
for " whatsoever hath passion or admiration " at the 
flame of their genius. 

Altogether it is evident what a wide field of study is 
before every young man who loves books, and would 
seek to improve himself by their study. The field is 
only too wide and varied, were it not that different 
tastes will seek different parts of it, and leave the rest 
comparatively alone. Whatever part you may select, 
devote yourself to it. If history, or science, or belles 
lettres be your delight, read with a view not merely to 



123 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

pass the time, but really to cultivate and advance your 
intellectual life. The mere dilettante will never come 
to anything. Read whatever you read with enthu- 
siasm, with a generous yet critical sympathy. Make 
it your own. Take it up by lively and intelligent 
application at every point into your own mental 
system, and assimilate it. An active interest is a con- 
dition of all mental improvement. The mind only 
expands or strengthens when it is fairly awakened. 
Give to all your reading an awakened attention, a 
mind alive and hungering after knowledge, and whether 
you read history, or poetry, or science, or theology, or 
even fiction of a worthy kind, it will prove to you a 
mental discipline, and bring you increase of wisdom. 
— Abridged from Tulloch. 



HOW TO ENJOY. 

rR^VERY life that is at all healthy and happy must 
have its enjoyments as well as its duties. It 
cannot bear the constant strain of grave occu- 
pation without losing something of its vitality and 
sinking into feebleness. Asceticism may have construed 
life as an unceasing routine of duty — of work done for 
some grave or solemn purpose. But asceticism has 



HOW TO ENJOY. 124 

neither produced the best work ndr the noblest lives 
of which our world can boast. In its effort to elevate 
human nature, it has risen at the highest to a barren 
grandeur. It has too often relapsed into moral weak- 
ness or perversity. Human nature, as a prime condi- 
tion of health, must recreate itself — must have its 
moments of unconscious play, when it throws off the 
burden of work, and rejoices in the mere sensation of 
its own free activity. 

And youth must especially have such opportunities 
of recreation. It thirsts for them — it is all on the alert 
to catch them ; and if denied to it, it dwindles from 
its proper strength, or pursues illegitimate and hurtful 
gratifications. A young man without the love of 
amusement is an unnatural phenomenon ; and an 
education that does not provide for recreation as well 
as study would fail of its higher end from the very ex- 
clusiveness with which it aims to reach it. 

The question, How to enjoy? is therefore, in its 
right sense, always a secondary, never a primary ques- 
tion. It comes after the question of duty, and never 
before it; and vhere the main question is rightly 
resolved, the secondary one becomes comparatively 
easy of solution. Principle first: Play afterwards. 
And if there be the root of right principle in us, we 
will not, need not trouble ourselves minute 1 y as to 



125 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

modes of amusement. Enjoyment in itself is meant to 
be a right and blessing, and not a snare. This is a 
very important truth for the young to understand. 
Life is open to them; amusement is free to them. 
They are entitled to live freely and trustfully, and enjoy 
all — if only the sense of duty and of God remain with 
them — if only they do not forget that for all these things 
God will bring them into judgment. Under this proviso 
they may taste of enjoyment as liberally as their 
natures crave, and their opportunities offer. To preach 
anything else to the young, is neither true in itself nor 
can possibly be good to them. To teach them to be 
afraid of enjoyment, is to make them doubtful of 
their own natural and healthy instincts ; and as these 
instincts remain, nevertheless, and constantly reassert 
their power, it is to introduce an element of hurtful 
perplexity into their life. They are urged on by 
nature ; they are held back by authority. And if the 
rein of the outward law imposed upon them once 
break, they are plunged into darkness. They have no 
guide. It is vain to enter into this struggle with 
nature : it is cruel and wrong to do it. Nature must 
have play, and is to be kept within bounds by its own 
wise training, and the development of a higher spirit 
within, and not by mere dictation an '\ arbitrary com- 
pulsion from without 



HOW TO ENJOY. 126 

Ascetic formality is the refuge of a weak moral 
nature, or the wretchedness of a strong one. How far 
even a noble mind may sink under it — to what depths 
of despairing imbecility and almost impiety it may 
reach — we have only to study the austerities of Pascal 
to see. We are told that " Pascal would not per- 
mit himself to be conscious of the relish of his food ; 
he prohibited all seasonings and spices, however 
much he might wish for and need them ; and 
he actually died because he forced the diseased 
stomach to receive at each meal a certain amount of 
aliment, neither more nor less, whatever might be his 
appetite at the time, or his utter want of appetite. He 
wore a girdle armed with iron spikes, which he was 
accustomed to drive in upon his body (his fleshless 
ribs) as often as he thought himself in need of such 
admonition. He was annoyed and offended if any in 
his hearing might chance to say that they had just 
seen a beautiful woman. He rebuked a mother who 
permitted her own children to give her their kisses. 
Towards a loving sister, who devoted herself to his 
comfort, he assumed an artificial harshness of manner 
for the express purpose, as he acknowledged, of revolt- 
ing her sisterly affection." 

And all this sprung from the simple principle that 
earthly enjoyment was inconsistent with religion. 



127 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

Once admit this principle, and there is no limit to the 
abject and unhappy consequences that may be drawn 
from it. The mind, thrown off any dependence upon 
its own instincts, is cast into the arms of some blind 
authority or dogmatism which tyrannizes over it, re- 
ducing it more frequently to weakness than bracing it 
up to endurance and heroism. 

No doubt it will be the impulse of every Christian 
man, and it ought no less to be so of every Christian 
youth, to "rejoice with trembling. ,, While he hears 
the voice saying to him, on the one hand, " Rejoice, 
O young man, in thy youth, and let thy heart cheer 
thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of 
thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes ; " he will 
not forget the voice that says to him, on the other 
hand, " But know thou, that for all these things God 
will bring thee into judgment." The voices are one, 
in fact ; and if he is wise, he will acknowledge their 
unity, and be sober in his very mirth, and temper the 
hour of cheerfulness with the thought of responsibility. 
There is something in the heart itself, even in the heart 
of the young, that intimates this as the true mean. 
There is often a monition of warning in the very mo- 
ment of mirth. The joy is well. It is the natural ex- 
pression of a healthy and well-ordered frame; it leaps 
up to meet the opportunity as the lark to greet the 



HOW TO ENJOY. N 128 

morn. The movement of nature is as clear in the one 
case as in the other; yet there is a background of 
moral consciousness lying behind the human instinct, 
and always ready to cast the shadows of thought — of 
reflective responsibility over it. 

Our constitution contains within itself a check to 
all undue excitement. This check is, no doubt, often 
ineffectual, but it is so at the expense of the constitu- 
tion, and the very capacity of enjoyment which may 
overtask itself. This capacity wastes by excessive 
use. Of nothing may the young man be more sure 
than this. If he will rejoice without thought and with- 
out care in the days of his youth, he will leave but 
little power of enjoyment for his manhood or old age. 
If he keep the flame of passion burning, and plunge 
into excitement after excitement in his heyday, there 
will be nothing but feebleness and exhaustion in his 
maturity. He cannot spend his strength and have it 
too. He cannot drink of every source of pleasure, 
and have his taste uncloyed, and his thirst fresh as at 
the first. 

There is need here of a special caution in a time 
like ours. There are young men who now-a-days ex- 
haust pleasure in their youth. The comparative free- 
dom of modern life encourages an earlier entrance 
into the world, and an earlier ass mption of manly 



129 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

manners and habits than was wont to be. Pleasure is 
cheaper and more accessible — the pleasure of travel, 
pleasure of many kinds; and it is no uncommon thing 
to find young men who have run the round of manly 
pleasure before they have well attained to man's estate, 
and who are blase with the world before the time that 
their fathers had really entered into it. 

The avoidance of all excess is a golden rule in en- 
joyment. It may be a hard, and in certain cases an 
impossible rule to the young. In the abundance of 
life there is a tendency to overflow; and when the 
young heart is big with excited emotion it seems vain 
to speak of moderation. Every one, probably, will be 
able to recall hours when, amid the competitive glad- 
ness of school or college companions the impulses of 
enjoyment seemed to burst all bounds, and ran into 
the most riotous excitement; and in the reminiscences 
of such hours there may be the charm as of a long- 
lost pleasure never to be felt again; but if the memory 
be fairly interrogated, it will be found that even then 
there was a drawback — some latent dissatisfaction and 
weariness, or something worse, that grew out of the 
very height or overplus of that rapturous enjoyment. 
&s a great humorist (Thomas Hood) has said: 

" E'en the bright extremes of joy 
Bring on conclusions of disgust." 



WHAT TO ENJOY. 130 

Assuredly the most durable and the best pleasures are 
all tranquil pleasures. And it is just one of the les- 
sons which change the sanguine anticipations of youth 
into the sober experience of manhood that the true 
essence of attainable enjoyment is not in bursts of 
excitement, but in the moderate flow of healthy and 
happy, because well-ordered, emotion. — Abridged from 
Tulloch. 




WHAT TO ENJOY. 

*OUTH must have its recreations. Enjoyment 
must mingle largely in the life of every healthy 
young man — enjoyment liberal yet temperate. 

The active sports of boyhood may be, and as far as 
possible should be, carried into early manhood. 
Athletic games, or whatever game carries the young 
man into the open air, braces his muscles, and 
strengthens his health, and procures the merry-hearted 
companionship of his fellows, should be indulged in 
without stint, so far as his opportunities will permit, 
and the proper claims of business or of study justify. 

There is another class of amusements to which 
young men may freely betake themselves as they have 
opportunity — shooting and fishing. 

In addition to such out-door amusements, there are 



131 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

various forms of in-door amusement which claim some 
notice. It is more difficult to find in-door amusements 
for young men, for the simple reason that healthy and 
happy exercise is the idea which is chiefly associated 
with, and chiefly legitimates recreation on their part. 
And the open air is the natural place for such exercise. 
Yet in-door amusements must also be found. Music 
is one of the chief of these amusements, and certainly 
one of the most innocent and elevating. 

Of all delights, to those who have the gift or taste 
for it, music is the most exquisite. To affix the term 
amusement to it is perhaps scarcely fair. It is always 
more than this when duly appreciated. 

There is no other recreation, if this be the proper 
name for it at all, which is so purely intellectual. 
Other amusements, many games, may exercise the in- 
tellect, and even largely draw forth its powers of fore- 
thought, of decision and readiness ; but music appeals 
to the soul in those deeper springs which lie close to 
spiritual and moral feeling. It lifts it out of the pres- 
ent and visible into the future and invisible. Even in 
its gayer and lighter strains it often does this, as well 
as in its more solemn and sacred chants. The simple 
lilt of a song which we have heard in youth, or which 
reminds us of home and country — some fragment of 
melody slight in meaning, yet exquisitely touching in 



WHAT TO ENJOY. 132 

sweet or pathetic wildness — will carry the soul into a 

higher region, and make a man feel kindred with the 

immortals. 

" O joy I that in our embers 

Is something that doth live; 
That nature yet remembers 
What was so fugitive 1 " 

A joy so precious as this, and which may minister to 
such high ends, is one which we are bound to cultivate 
in every manner, and for which we are warranted in 
seeking the fullest indulgence. The concert, the 
oratorio, the opera, are all, from this point of view, to 
be commended. 

The love of play of any kind in the shape of 
billiards or cards, or anything else, is a hazardous, and 
may prove, before you are well aware of it, a fatal 
passion. Whenever it begins to develop, you have 
passed the bounds of amusement ; and to indulge in 
any games but for amusement is at once an infatuation 
and temptation of the worst kind. 

The drama is in its idea noble and exalting — one of 
the most natural, and therefore most effective expres- 
sions of literary art. Who may not be made wiser 
and better by the study of Shakspeare's wonderful 
creations? In what human compositions rather than 
in his plays would a young man seek for the stimulus 
of high thoughts, and the excitement of lofty and 



133 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

heroic or gentle and graceful virtues ? The stage in 
its true conception is a school of morals as well as of 
manners, in which the things that are excellent should 
commend themselves, and the things that are low and 
bad show their own disgrace. There is no species of 
entertainment that can, according to its true idea, 
more completely vindicate itself than the theatre. 

Festive parties among yourselves, how light and 
genial may they be 1 What feast of reason and flow 
of soul ! What flash of wit and cannonade of argu- 
ment may they call forth ! What radiant sparks, the 
memory of which will never die out, but come back in 
the easy and humorous moments of an earnest and it 
may be a sad existence, and brighten up the past with 
the momentary coruscations of a departed brilliancy! 
What deep, hearty friendship may illuminate and 
beautify them! Yet we know that such gladsome mo- 
ments are peculiarly akin to danger. Merriment may 
pass into wantonness, and legitimate indulgence into a 
riotous carouse. Moderation is the difficulty of youth 
in everything. Yet when the bounds of moderation 
are once passed, all the enjoyment is gone — recreation 
ceases. Edward Irving says : 

" Mirth and laughter, and the song, and the dance, 
and the feast, and the wine-cup, with all the jovial 
glee which circulates around the festive board, are 



WHAT TO ENJOY. 134 

only proper to the soul at those seasons when she is 
filled with extraordinary gladness, and should wait 
until those seasons arrive in order to be partaken of 
wholesomely and well; but by artificial means to make 
an artificial excitement of the spirits is violently to 
change the law and order of our nature, and to force 
it to that to which it is not willingly inclined. With- 
out such high calls and occasions, to make mirth and 
laughter is to belie nature, and misuse the ordinance 
of God. It is a false glare, which doth but show the 
darkness and deepen the gloom. It is to wear out and 
dissipate the oil of gladness, so that, when gladness 
cometh, we have no light of joy within our souls, and 
look upon it with baleful eyes. It is not a figure, but 
a truth, that those who make those artificial merri- 
ments night after night, have no taste for natural mirth, 
and are gloomy and morose until the revels of the 
table or the lights of the saloon bring them to life 
again. Nature is worsted by art — artificial fire is 
stolen, but not from heaven, to quicken the pulse of 
life, and the pulse of life runs on with fevered speed, 
and the strength of man is prostrated in a few brief 
years, and old age comes over the heart when life 
should yet be in its prime. And not only is heaven 
made shipwreck of, but the world is made shipwreck 
of — not only the spiritual man quenched, but the 



135 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

animal man quenched, by such unseasonable and in- 
temperate merrymakings." 

In all your enjoyments, therefore, be moderate. 
The principle that leads and regulates you must be 
from within. Set your heart right in the love of God 
and the faith of Christ, and difficulties will disappear. 
Your recreation will fit in naturally to your life. The 
inner life in you will assimilate to the Divine every- 
where, and return its own blessed and consecrating 
influence to all your work and all your amusments. — 
Abridged from Tulloch. 




MARRIAGE. 

^HE foundation of every good government is the 
family. The best and most prosperous country 
is that which has the greatest number of happv 
firesides. The holiest institution among men is marri- 
age. It has taken the race countless ages to come up 
to the condition of marriage. Without it there would 
be no civilization, no human advancement, no life 
worth living. Life is a failure to any woman who has 
not secured the love and adoration of some grand and 
magnificent man. Life is a mockery to any man, no 
matter whether he be mendicant or monarch, who has 



WHY A MAN NEEDS A WIFE. L36 

not won the heart of some worthy woman. Without 
love and marriage, all the priceless joys of this life 
would be as ashes on the lips of the children of men. 

" You had better be the emperor of one loving and 
tender heart, and she the empress of yours, than to be 
the king of the world. The man who has really won 
the love of one good woman in this world, it matters 
not though he die in the ditch a beggar, his life has 
been a success." 

There is a heathen book which says: " Man is 
strength, woman is beauty; man is courage, woman is 
love. When the one man loves the one woman, and 
the one woman loves the one man, the very angels 
leave heaven and come and sit in that house and sing 
for joy." — The Physiologist. 



WHY A MAN NEEDS A WIFE. 

"T is not to sweep the house, make the bed, darn 
the socks and cook the meals chiefly, that a 
man wants a wife. If this is all he needs, hired 
help can do it cheaper than a wife. If this is all, when 
a young man calls to see a lady, send him into the 
pantry to taste the bread and cake she has made; sena 
him to inspect the needlework and bed-making; or put 



137 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

a broom in her hand, and send him to witness its use. 
Such things are important, and the wise young man 
will quickly look after them ; but what the true man 
wants with a wife is her companionship, sympathy and 
love. The way of life has many dreary places in it, 
and man needs a companion to go with him. A man is 
sometimes overtaken by misfortune ; he meets with 
failure and defeat ; trials and temptations beset him, 
and he needs one to stand by and sympathize. He has 
some hard battles to fight with poverty, enemies, and 
with sin ; and he needs a woman that, when he puts 
his arm around her, he feels he has something to fight 
for, she will help him to fight. All through life, through 
storms and through sunshine, conflict and victory; 
through adverse and through favoring winds, man 
needs a woman's love. Happy he who finds it 



HAPPINESS. 

["TVER since the world sinned and woke up to 
misery, there is one absentee whom all have 
agreed in deploring. Every age has asked 
tidings of her from the age that has went before, 
and from the one which came after; and even the 
most indolent have put forth an effort, and have joined 




HAPPINESS. 138 

their neighbors in searching for this fugitive. Some 
have dived into the billowy main, and sought her in 
pearly grottoes and coral caves. And some have bored 
into the solid rock, and rummaged for her in the 
mountain roots. And some have risen to where the 
eagles poise, and have scanned in successive horizons 
the habitable surface; but all have got the same report. 
" Where is happiness? " — " Not in me," cries the leafy 
grove; " nor in me," booms the sounding tide; "nor 
in me," rumbles gaunt and hollow from the dusky 
mine. And failing to detect her in life's by-paths and 
open ways, her votaries have reared decoys or shrines 
into which she haply might turn aside. But all of them 
have failed entirely. Theatres, dancing-saloons, gin- 
palaces, racing-booths — there is no authentic instance 
that she ever entered one of them. And though some 
have fancied that they glimpsed her — " yes, yes," they 
whisper, " yonder she passed; and in that hall of 
science, in that temple of knowledge, in that sweet 
home, you'll find her; " by the time you reached it, 
there was a death's-head at the door, and a " Mene 
Tekel " on the wall. " Not in me," sighed vain philos- 
ophy, and "not in me," re-echoed the worldling's 
rifled home. 

But where is happiness? Man knows that she is not 
dead, but disappeared; and ever since under the for- 



139 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

bidden tree he ate the bitter-sweet and startled hei 
away, he has longed to find that other and enlighten- 
ing fruit which would reveal her to his eyes again. 
And this is the boon which the world's teachers have 
undertaken to supply. They have come from time to 
time, seers and sages, Thales, Pythagoras, Zoroaster, 
Epicurus, Con-fu-tze, and to humanity's wondering 
gaze they have held up apples, as they said, fresh 
gathered from the Tree of Life. But after rushing and 
jostling round them, and getting at great cost a prize, 
these all proved naught to the hungry buyer. The 
golden apples were mere make-believes; hollow rinds, 
painted shells filled up with trash or trifles. Some ate, 
and still their soul had appetite; others ate, and were 
poisoned. 

At last, along the path which a hundred prophecies 
had carved and smoothed, "the desire of all nations" 
— the Son of God — appeared. And from the paradise 
above he fetched the long-lost secret. Himself " the 
truth ; " his every sentence freighted with majesty, and 
fragrant with heaven's sanctity; it needed not the fre- 
quent miracle to compel the exclamation, " Rabbi, we 
know that thou art a teacher come from God." He 
did not reason ; he revealed. His sayings were not 
the conjectures of keen sagacity, nor even the recol- 
lections of an angel visitor; but they were authoritative 



HAPPINESS. 140 

words — the insight of Omniscience, the oracle of in- 
carnate Deity. And giving freely to all comers " the 
apples of gold " from his " basket of silver," the dim 
and the famished ate, and with open eyes looking up, 
in himself they recognized the answer to the ancient 
query. " What is happiness? " — " Come unto me," is 
the Saviour's reply ; " come unto me, all ye that labor 
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take 
my yoke upon you, and learn of me ; for I am meek 
and lowly in heart : and ye shall find rest unto your 
souls." " Where is happiness ? " Here, at the feet of 
Immanuel. And then, and since, thousands have veri- 
fied the saying. In the words of Jesus they have dis- 
covered the boon for which their understandings 
longed — conclusive and soul-filling knowledge ; and in 
his person and work they have found the good for 
which their conscience craved — a saving and sanctify- 
ing Power. 

To the great question, What is happiness? Jesus is 
the embodied answer — at once the teacher and the les- 
son. The question had been asked for ages, and some 
hundred solutions had been proposed. And in the 
outset of his ministry the Saviour took it up, and gave 
the final answer. What is happiness? " Happy are 
the humble. Happy are the contrite. Happy are the 
meek. Happy are they who hunger after righteous- 



141 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

ness. Happy are the merciful, the pure in heart, the 
peace-makers, the men persecuted for righteousness." 
In other words, he declared that happiness is good- 
ness. A holy nature is a happy one. 

Placed before you is a casket of gold, and you are 
asked to guess what it contains; and looking at its ex- 
quisite tracery and costly material, you think of a 
blazing diamond or a monarch's signet-ring. Guess? 
You can not guess. They open it, and reveal a spider, 
a scorpion, or a spinning-worm! And surveying a 
human soul, you view the finest casket in this world. 
Made on a heavenly pattern, with powers so capacious, 
and feelings $o susceptible, in order to be worthily 
occupied, it would need to be filled with some lofty 
purpose, some pure and noble motive. My reader, 
you have got that casket. What have you put in it ? 
What is the thing which chiefly occupies your thoughts? 
Your great pursuit and pleasure? What impels you to 
exertion? Is it money? Is it popularity and praise? 
Is it dress? Is it dainty food? Is it some fierce and 
evil passion? Is it envy? Is it resentment? Is it self- 
ishness? Is it the wish to achieve your own personal 
ease and comfort? Is it something so paltry that you 
are ashamed to call it the business of life? — something 
so baleful that it degrades and destroys the heart which 
hides it? 



HAPPINESS, 142 

Seek to have your bosom filled with pure kindness 
and holy compassion — a compassion various as is 
human sorrow — a kindness which shall still be flowing 
while life itself is ebbing. Cease to be selfish. Learn 
the blessedness of doing good. Even you can con- 
tribute to that great work — the making of a bad world 
better. Is there no acquaintance over whom you have 
influence? None whom you might reclaim from a bad 
habit? None whom you might induce to read some 
useful book, or attend the house of God? Are there 
no poor children whom you might collect on a Sabbath 
afternoon, and teach them a Bible lesson? Is there 
no sick neighbor to whom you might carry a little 
comfort — something nice to tempt his listless palate? 
No invalid friend whom you might cheer with an hour 
of your company, or to whom you might read or say 
something for the good of his soul? At all events, 
you can be doing good at home. You can minister 
to the wants of some aged parent. You can sooth the 
grief of some bereaved relation. You can lend a 
helping hand, and lighten their labors who have got 
too much to do. With a firm but fatherly control, you 
can guide your children in wisdom's ways. And you 
can diffuse throughout your dwelling that sweetest 
music — cheerful and approving words; that brightest 
light — the clear shining of a cordial countenance. 



143 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

And when God in His Providence sends favorable 
opportunities, with self-denial and prayerful affection, 
you may be the means of stamping on some immortal 
mind a truth or lesson as enduring as that mind itself. 
You will not need to study your appearance, nor to 
be nervous about people's opinions; for by its self- 
sustaining sincerity, your conduct will sooner or later 
achieve its own vindication, and in her child shall 
Wisdom be justified. In your common talk there 
will be no scurrility nor scandal; nothing false, nothing 
unseemly, nothing base nor vile. In your ordinary 
acting, there will be no crooks nor crotchets; nothing 
cruel or oppressive; nothing for which conscience can 
not render a good reason. — Hamilton. 




SUCCESS 

^HETHER your life shall be successful or 
not, is a question which must be answered 
by yourself alone. It cannot be done by 
proxy. Temperance, frugality, honesty, and economy, 
accompanied by strong determination and persever- 
ance, will bring you to the goal of success and pros- 
perity. Nothing else will. " The longer I live," said 
Fowell Buxton, " the more I am certain that the great 



SUCCESS. 144 

difference between men, between the feeble and the 
powerful, the great and the insignificant, is energy — 
invincible determination — a purpose once fixed, and 
then death or victory! That quality will do anything 
that can be done in this world; and no talents, no cir- 
cumstances, no opportunities, will make a two-legged 
creature a man without it." The path of success in 
business is invariably the path of common sense. The 
best kind of success in every man's life is not that 
which comes by accident, and " lucky hits " often turn 
out very unlucky in the end. " We may succeed for a 
time by fraud, by surprise, by violence; but we can 
succeed permanently only by means directly opposite." 
" Honesty is the best policy," and it is upheld by the 
daily experience of life ; uprightness and integrity 
being found as successful in business as in everything 
else. It is possible that the scrupulously honest man 
may not grow rich so fast as the unscrupulous and dis- 
honest one; but the success will be of a truer kind, earned 
without fraud or injustice. And even though a man 
should for a time be unsuccessful, still he must be 
honest; better lose all and save character. For char- 
acter is itself a fortune, and if the high-principled man 
will but hold in his way courageously, success will 
surely come — nor will the highest reward of all be 
withheld from him. 



145 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS 

The rules of conduct followed by Lord Erskine are 
worthy of being engraven on every young man's heart: 
" It was a first command and counsel of my earliest 
youth," he said, " always to do what my conscience 
told me to be a duty, and to leave the consequence to 
God. I shall carry with me the memory, and I trust 
the practice, of this parental lesson, to the grave. 
I have hitherto followed it, and I have no reason to 
complain that my obedience to it has been a temporal 
sacrifice. I have found it, on the contrary, the road 
to prosperity and wealth, and I shall point out the 
same path to my children for their pursuit." 

Disappointments and difficulties may fall to your lot, 
but let them not crush your determination to succeed. 
George Stephenson worked fifteen years at the im- 
provement of his locomotive before achieving his de- 
cisive victory. William Cobbett mastered English 
grammar when a private soldier on the pay of sixpence 
a day, and often underwent great hardship in his 
efforts to advance in knowledge. Audubon, the ornith- 
ologist, had two hundred of his original drawings, 
representing two thousand inhabitants of air, eaten up 
by rats, and the loss nearly put a stop to his researches. 
He took up his gun, note-book and pencils, and went 
forth to the woods gayly, as if nothing had happened. 
In three years his portfolio was again filled. The list 



SUCCESS. 146 

of men who have overcome what seemed to others in- 
surmountable obstacles is a long one, and the few in- 
stances given are sufficient to illustrate the power of 
determination and perseverance. " What is even 
poverty itself," asks Richter, " that a man should mur- 
mur under it ? It is but as the pain of piercing a 
maiden's ear, and you hang precious jewels in the 
wound." Many are found capable of bravely bearing 
up under privations and trials, who are afterwards 
found unable to withstand the more dangerous in- 
fluences of prosperity. Prosperity is apt to harden 
the heart to pride; adversity, in a man of resolution, 
will only serve to ripen it to fortitude. Difficulties may 
intimidate the weak, but they act only as a wholesome 
stimulus to men of pluck and resolution. All experi- 
ence of life, indeed, serves to prove that the impedi- 
ments thrown in the way of success may, for the most 
part, be overcome by steady conduct, honest zeal, 
activity, perseverance, and above all, by a determined 
resolution to surmount difficulties, and stand up man- 
fully against misfortune. 

"Honor and shame from no condition rise, 
Act well your part, there all the honor lies." 

Be it yours to strive and win, and to obtain in this 
world riches and honor, and in the world to come a 
"crown of life." Such a victory is surely the greatest 



147 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

success that can be attained, and is far more lasting 
and enduring than so-called success obtained by 
fraud and trickery, however much it may appear to the 
contrary at times. 

There are many who, in their eager desire for the 
end, overlook the difficulties in the way ; there is 
another class who see nothing else. The first class 
may sometimes fail; the latter rarely succeed. 



THE IRREPARABLE PAST. 

flME is the solemn inheritance to which every 
man is born heir, who has a life-rent of this 
world — a little section cut out of eternity, and 
given us to do our work in; an eternity before, an 
eternity behind: and the small stream between, float- 
ing swiftly from the one into the vast bosom of the 
other. The man who has felt, with all his soul, the 
significance of time, will not be long in learning any 
lesson that this world has to teach him. Have you 
ever felt it ? Have you ever realized how your own 
little streamlet is gliding away and bearing you along 
with it towards that awful other world of which all 
things here are but thin shadows, down into that 



THE IRREPARABLE PAST. 148 

eternity towards which the confused wreck of all 
earthly things is bound ? 

Let us realize, that, until that sensation of time, and 
the infinite meaning which is wrapped up in it, has 
taken possession of our souls, there is no chance of 
our ever feeling strongly that it is worse than madness 
to sleep that time away. Every day in this world has 
its work; and every day, as it rises out of eternity, 
keeps putting to each of us the question afresh, What 
will you do before to-day has sunk into eternity and 
nothingness again? 

And now what have we to say with respect to this 
strange, solemn thing — time? That men do with it 
through life just what the Apostles did for one precious 
and irreparable hour of it in the garden of Geth- 
semane — they go to sleep! Have you ever seen those 
marble statues, in some public square or garden, 
which art has so finished into a perennial fountain 
that through the lips or through the hands the clear 
water flows in a perpetual stream on and on forever, 
and the marble stands there — passive, cold — making 
no effort to arrest the gliding water? 

It is so that time flows through the hands of men — 
swift, never pausing till it has run itself out; and there 
is the man petrified into a marble sleep, not feeling 
what it is which is passing away forever I It is so, just 



149 . SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

so, that the destiny of nine men out of ten accom- 
plishes itself, slipping away from them aimless, useless, 
till it is too late. And we are asked, with all the 
solemn thoughts which crowd around our approaching 
eternity, What has been our life, and what do we in- 
tend it shall be ? 

Yesterday, last week, last year, they are gone! Yes- 
terday was such a day as never was before, and never 
can be again. Out of darkness and eternity it was 
born, a new, fresh day; into darkness and eternity it 
sank again forever. It had a voice, calling to us of 
its own — its own work, its own duties. What were we 
doing yesterday? Idling, whiling away the time, in 
light and luxurious literature; not as life's relaxation, 
but as life's business? Thrilling our hearts with the 
excitement of life, contriving how to spend the day 
most pleasantly? Was that our day? 

All this is but the sleep of the three Apostles. And 
now let us remember this: There is a day coming 
when the sleep will be broken rudely — with a shock; 
there is a day in our future lives when our time will 
be counted, not by years, nor by months, nor yet by 
hours, but by minutes — the day when unmistakable 
symptoms shall announce that the messenger of death 
has come to take us. 

That startling moment will come, which it is vain to 



PREPARE FOR THE END. 150 

attempt to realize now, when it will be felt that it is 
all over at last — that our chance and our trial are 
past. The moment that we have tried to think 
of, shrunk from, put away from us, here it is — going 
too, like all other moments that have gone before 
it; and then with eyes unsealed at last, we shall look 
l s ack on the life which is gone by. — Robertson. 



PREPARE FOR THE END. 

T is well for the young man, even in entering 
upon life, to remember its termination, and how 
swiftly and suddenly the end may come. " Here 
we have no continuing city." We are " strangers and 
pilgrims, as all our fathers were," and the road of life 
at its very opening may pass from under us, and ere 
we have well entered upon the enjoyments and work 
of the present, we may be launched into the invisible 
and future world that awaits us. At the best life is 
but a brief space. " It appeareth for a little moment, 
and then vanisheth away." It is but a flash out of 
darkness, soon again to return into darkness. Or, as 
the old Saxon imagination conceived, it is like the 
swift flight of a bird from the night without, through a 
lighted chamber, filled with guests and warm with the 



151 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

breath of passion, back into the cold night again 
(Bede, ii., 13). We stand, as it were, on a narrow 
" strip of shore, waiting till the tide, which has washed 
away hundreds of millions of our fellows, shall wash 
us away also into a country of which there are no 
charts, and from which there is no return." The 
image may be almost endlessly varied. The strange 
and singular uncertainty of life is a stock theme of 
pathos; but no descriptive sensibility can really touch 
all the mournful tenderness which it excites. 

It is not easy for a young man, nor indeed for any 
man in high health and spirits, to realize the transi- 
toriness of life and all its ways. Nothing would be 
less useful than to fill the mind with gloomy images of 
death, and to torment the present by apprehensions 
as to the future. Religion does not require nor 
countenance any such morbid anxiety; yet it is good 
also to sober the thoughts with the consciousness of 
life's frailty and death's certainty. It is good above 
all to live every day as we would wish to have done 
when we come to die. We need not keep the dread 
event before us, but we should do our work and duty 
as if we were ever waiting for it and ready to en- 
counter it. " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it 
with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor 
knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave, whither thou 



PREPARE FOR THE END. 152 

goest." Our work here should always be preparatory 
for the end. Our enjoyments should be such as shall 
not shame us when we stand face to face with death. 
The young, and the old too, but especially the young, 
are apt to forget this. In youth we fail to realize the 
intimate dependency, the moral coherency which 
binds life together everywhere, and gives an awful 
meaning to every part of it. We do not think of con- 
sequences as we recklessly yield to passion, or stain 
the soul by sinful indulgence. But the storm of pas- 
sion never fails to leave its waste, and the stain, 
although it may have been washed by the tears of 
penitence, and the blood of a Saviour, remains. There 
is something different, something less firm, less clear, 
honest, or consistent in our life in consequence; and 
the buried sin rises from its grave in our sad moments, 
and haunts us with its terror, or abashes us with its 
shame. Assuredly it will find us out at last, if we lose 
not all spiritual sensibility. When our feet begin " to 
stumble on the dark mountains/' and the present loses 
its hold upon us, and the objects of sense wax faint 
and dim, there is often a strangely vivid light shed 
over our whole moral history. Our life rises before 
us in its complete development, and with the scars 
and wounds of sin just where we made them* The 
sorrow of an irreparable past comes upon us, and we 



153 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

are tortured in vain by the thought of the good we 
have thrown away, or of the evil we have made our 
portion. 

Let no young man imagine for a moment that it can 
ever be unimportant whether he yields to this or that 
sinful passion, or, as it may appear to him at the time, 
venial indulgence. Let him not try to quiet his con- 
science by the thought that at the worst he will out- 
live the memory of his folly, and attain to a higher life 
in the future. Many may seem to him to have done 
this. Many of the greatest men have been, he may 
think, wild in youth. They have " sown their wild 
oats," as the saying is, and had done with them; and 
their future lives have only appeared the more remark- 
able in the view of the follies of their youth. A more 
mischievous delusion could not possibly possess the 
mind of any young man. For as surely as the inner- 
most law of the world is the law of moral retribution, 
they who sow wild oats will reap, in some shape or 
another, a sour and bitter harvest. For " whatsoever 
a man soweth that shall he also reap; he that soweth 
to the flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption; he that 
soweth to the Spirit, shall of the Spirit reap life ever- 
lasting." 

There is nothing more sure than this law of moral 
connexion and retribution. Life, through all its course, 



PREPARE FOR THE END. 154 

is a series of moral impulses and consequences, each 
part of which bears the impress of all that goes before, 
and again communicates its impress to all that follows. 
And it is with the character, which is the sum of all, 
that we meet death, and enter on the life to come. 
Every act of life — all our work, and study, and enjoy- 
ment — our temptations, our sins, our repentance, our 
faith, our virtue are preparing us — whether we think it 
or not — for happiness or misery hereafter. It is this 
more than anything that gives such a solemn character 
to the occupations of life. They are the lessons for a 
higher life. They are an education — a discipline for 
hereafter. This is their highest meaning. 

Let young men remember the essential bearing of 
the present upon the future. In beginning life let them 
remember the end of it, and how it will be at the end 
as it has been throughout. All will be summed up to 
this point ; and the future and the eternal will take 
their character from the present and the temporary. 
" He that is unjust, let him be unjust still : and he 
which is filthy, let him be filthy still : and he that is 
righteous, let him be righteous still : and he that is 
holy, let him be holy still." The threads of our moral 
history run on in unbroken continuity. The shadow of 
death may cover them from the sight ; but they emerge 
in the world beyond in like order as they were here. 



155 SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. 

Make your present life, therefore, a preparation for 
death and the life to come. Make it such by embrac- 
ing now the light and love of God your Father — by 
doing the work of Christ your Saviour and Master — 
by using the world without abusing it — by seeking in 
all your duties, studies, and enjoyments, to become 
meet for a " better country, that is, an heavenly." To 
the youngest among you the time may be short. The 
summons to depart may come in " a day and an hour 
when you think not." Happy then the young man 
whose Lord shall find him waiting — working — looking 
even from the portals of an opening life here to the 
gates of that celestial inheritance " incorruptible and 
undefiled, and that fadeth not away!" — Tulloch. 





HRIFT. 



THRIFT. 



INDUSTRY. 

''Not what I have, but what I do, is my kingdom." — Carlyle. 

u Productive industry is the only capital which enriches a people, and spreads 
national prosperity and well-being. In all labor there is profit, says Solomon. 
What is the science of Political Economy, but a dull sermon on this text? " — 
Samziel Laing. 

" God provides the good things of the world to serve the needs of nature, by 
the labors of the ploughman, the skill and pains of the artizan, and the dangers 
and traffic of the merchant. . . . The idle person is like one that is dead, uncon- 
cerned in the changes and necessities of the world ; and he only lives to spend 
his time, and eat the fruits of the earth : like a vermin or a wolf, when their 
time comes they die and perish, and in the meantime do no good." — Jeremy 
Taylor. 

" For the structure that we raise, 
Time is with materials filled ; 
Our to-days and yesterdays 

Are the blocks with which we build." — Longfellow. 

xf£~^r7)HRIFT began with civilization. It began when 
men found it necessary to provide for to-mor- 
row, as well as for to-day. It began long be- 
fore money was invented. 

Thrift means private economy. It includes domes- 
tic economy, as well as the order and management of a 
family. 

While it is the object of Private Economy to create 
and promote the well-being of individuals, it is the o\? 



POLITICAL ECONOMY. 157 

ject of Political Economy to create and increase the 
wealth of nations. 

Private and public wealth have the same origin. 
Wealth is obtained by labor ; it is preserved by savings 
and accumulations; and it is increased by diligence 
and perseverance. 

It is the savings of individuals which compose the 
wealth — in other words, the well-being — of every 
nation. On the other hand, it is the wastefulness of 
individuals which occasions the impoverishment of 
states. So that every thrifty person may be regarded 
as a public benefactor, and every thriftless person as a ■ 
public enemy. 

There is no dispute as to the necessity for Private 
Economy. Everybody admits it, and recommends it. 
But with respect to Political Economy, there are nume- 
rous discussions, — for instance, as to the distribution 
of capital, the accumulations of property, the incidence 
of taxation, the Poor Laws, and other subjects, — into 
which we do not propose to enter. The subject of 
Private Economy, of Thrift, is quite sufficient by itself 
to occupy the pages of this book. 

Economy is not a natural instinct, but the growth of 
experience, example, and forethought. It is also the 
result of education and intelligence. It is only when 
men become wise and thoughtful that they become 



158 PRIVATE ECONOMY. 

frugal. Hence the best means of making men and 
women provident is to make them wise. 

Prodigality is much more natural to man than thrift, 
The savage is the greatest of spendthrifts, for he has 
no forethought, no to-morrow. The prehistoric man 
saved nothing. He lived in caves, or in hollows of the 
ground covered with branches. He subsisted on shell- 
fish which he picked up on the seashore, or upon nuts 
which he gathered in the woods. He killed animals 
with stones. He lay in wait for them, or ran them 
down on foot. Then he learnt to use stones as tools ; 
making stone arrow-heads and spear-points, thereby 
utilizing his labor, and killing birds and animals more 
quickly. 

The original savage knew nothing of agriculture. It 
was only in comparatively recent times that men gath- 
ered seeds for food, and saved a portion of them for 
next year's crop. When minerals were discovered, and 
fire was applied to them, and the minerals were smelted 
into metal, man made an immense stride. He could 
then fabricate hard tools, chisel stone, build houses, 
and proceed by unwearying industry to devise the man- 
ifold means and agencies of civilization. 

The dweller by the ocean burnt a hollow in a felled 
tree, launched it, went to sea in it, and fished for food. 
The hollowed tree became a boat, held together with 



USEFUL LABORS. 1 59 

iron nails. The boat became a galley, a ship, a paddle- 
boat, a screw steamer, and the world was opened up for 
colonization and civilization. 

Man would have continued uncivilized, but for the 
results of the useful labors of those who preceded him. 
The soil was reclaimed by his predecessors, and made 
to grow food for human uses. They invented tools and 
fabrics, and we reap the useful results. They discov- 
ered art and science, and we succeed to the useful ef- 
fects of their labors. 

All nature teaches that no good thing which has once 
been done passes utterly away. The living are ever 
reminded of the buried millions who have worked and 
won before them. The handicraft and skill displayed 
in the buildings and sculptors of the long-lost cities of 
Nineveh, Babylon, and Troy, have descended to the 
present time. In nature's economy, no human labor is 
altogether lost. Some remnant of useful effect contin- 
ues to reward the race, if not the individual. 

The mere material wealth bequeathed to us by our 
forefathers forms but an insignificant item in the sum 
of our inheritance. Our birthright is made up of some- 
thing far more imperishable. It consists of the sum of 
the useful effects of human skill and labor. These ef- 
fects were not transmitted by learning, but by teaching 
and example. One generation taught another, and thus 



160 OUR BIRTHRIGHT. 

art and handicraft, the knowledge of mechanical appli- 
ances and materials, continued to be preserved. The 
labors and efforts of former generations were thus trans- 
mitted by father to son • and they continue to form the 
natural heritage of the human race — one of the most 
important instruments of civilization. 

Our birthright, therefore, consists in the useful effects 
of the labors of our forefathers ; but we cannot enjoy 
them unless we ourselves take part in the work. All 
must labor, either with hand or head. Without work, 
life is worthless ; it becomes a mere state of moral 
coma. We do not mean merely physical work. There 
is a great deal of higher work — the work of action and 
endurance, of trial and patience, of enterprise and phi- 
lanthropy, of spreading truth and civilization, of dimin- 
ishing suffering and relieving the poor, of helping the 
weak, and enabling them to help themselves. 

" A noble heart," says Barrow, " will disdain to sub- 
sist, like a drone, upon others' labors ; like a vermin to 
filch its food out of the public granary ; or, like a shark, 
to prey upon the lesser fry ; but it will rather outdo his 
private obligations to other men's care and toil, by con- 
siderable service and beneficence to the public ; for 
there is no calling of any sort, from the sceptre to the 
spade, the management whereof, with any good suc- 
cess, any credit, any satisfaction, doth not demand 
much work of the head, or of the hands, or of both." 



RESULTS OF LABOR. l6l 

Labor is not only a necessity, but it is also a pleas- 
ure. What would otherwise be a curse, by the consti- 
tution of our physical system becomes a blessing. Our 
life is a conflict with nature in some respects, but it is 
also a cooperation with nature in others. The sun, the 
air, and the earth are constantly abstracting from us 
our vital forces. Hence we eat and drink for nourish- 
ment, and clothe ourselves for warmth. 

Nature works with us. She provides the earth which 
we furrow ; she grows and ripens the seeds that we 
sow and gather. She furnishes, with the help of hu- 
man labor, the wool that we spin and the food that we 
eat. And it ought never to be forgotten, that however 
rich or poor we may be, all that we eat, all that we are 
clothed with, all that shelters us, from the palace to the 
cottage, is the result of labor. 

Men cooperate with each other for the mutual suste- 
nance of all. The husbandman tills the ground and 
provides food ; the manufacturer weaves tissues, which 
the tailor and seamstress make into clothes; the mason 
and the bricklayer build the houses in which we enjoy 
household life. Numbers of workmen thus contribute 
and help to create the general result. 

Labor and skill applied to the vulgarest things invest 
them at once with precious value. Labor is indeed the 
life of humanity ; take it away, banish it, and the race 
ii 



162 RESULTS OF LABOR. 

of Adam were at once stricken with death. " He that 
will not work," said St. Paul, "neither shall he eat; " 
and the apostle glorified himself in that he had labored 
with his own hands, and had not been chargeable to 
any man. 

There is a well-known story of an old farmer calling 
his three idle sons around him when on his death-bed, 
to impart to them an important secret. " My sons," 
said he, " a great treasure lies hid in the estate which 
I am about to leave to you." The old man gasped. 
" Where is it hid ? " exclaimed the sons in a breath. 
" I am about to tell you," said the old man ; "you will 
have to dig for it " but his breath failed him be- 
fore he could impart the weighty secret ; and he died. 
Forthwith the sons set to work with spade and mattock 
upon the long neglected fields, and they turned up 
every sod and clod upon the estate. They discovered 
no treasure, but they learnt to work : and when the 
fields were sown, and the harvests came, lo ! the yield 
was prodigious, in consequence of the thorough tillage 
which they had undergone. Then it was that they dis- 
covered the treasure concealed in the estate, of which 
their wise old father had advised them. 

Labor is at once a burden, a chastisement, an honor, 
and a pleasure. It may be identified with poverty, but 
there is also glory in it. It bears witness, at the same 



NECESSITY FOR LABOR. 163 

time, to our natural wants and to our manifold needs. 
What were man, what were life, what were civilization, 
without labor ? All that is great in man comes of labor ; 
— greatness in art, in literature, in science. Knowl- 
edge — " the wing wherewith we fly to heaven " — is 
only acquired through labor. Genius is but a capabil- 
ity of laboring intensely : it is the power of making 
great and sustained efforts. Labor may be a chastise- 
ment, but it is indeed a glorious one. It is worship, 
duty, praise, and immortality, — for those who labor 
with the highest aims, and for the purest purposes. 

There are many who murmur and complain at the 
law of labor under which we live, without reflecting that 
obedience to it is not only in conformity with the Di- 
vine will, but also necessary for the development of 
intelligence, and for the thorough enjoyment of our 
common nature. Of all wretched men, surely the idle 
are the most so ; — those whose life is barren of utility, 
who have nothing to do except to gratify their senses. 
Are not such men the most querulous, miserable, and 
dissatisfied of all, constantly in a state of ennui, alike 
useless to themselves and to others — mere cumberers 
of the earth, who when removed are missed by none, 
and whom none regret ? Most wretched and ignoble 
lot, indeed, is the lot of the idlers. 

Who have helped the world onward so much as the 



164 INDUSTRY AND INTELLECT. 

workers ; men who have had to work for necessity or 
from choice ? All that we call progress — civilization, 
well-being, and prosperity — depends upon industry, 
diligently applied, — from the culture of a barley-stalk 
to the construction of a steamship, — from the stitching 
of a collar to the sculpturing of " the statue that en- 
chants the world." 

All useful and beautiful thoughts, in like manner, are 
the issue of labor, of study, of observation, of research, 
of diligent elaboration. The noblest poem cannot be 
elaborated, and send down its undying strains into the 
future, without steady and painstaking labor. No 
great work has ever been done " at a heat." It is the 
result of repeated efforts, and often of many failures. 
One generation begins, and another continues — the 
present cooperating with the past. Thus, the Parthe- 
non began with a mud-hut ; the Last Judgment with a 
few scratches on the sand. It is the same with indi- 
viduals of the race ; they begin with abortive efforts, 
which, by means of perseverance, lead to successful 
issues. 

The history of industry is uniform in the character of 
its illustrations. Industry enables the poorest man to 
achieve honor, if not distinction. The greatest names 
in the history of art, literature, and science, are those 
of laboring men. A working instrument-maker gave us 



THRIFT AND CIVILIZATION. l6$ 

the steam-engine ; a barber, the spinning-machine ; a 
weaver, the mule ; a pitman perfected the locomotive ; 
— and working men of all grades have, one after an- 
other, added to the triumphs of mechanical skill. 

By the working man, we do not mean merely the 
man who labors with his muscles and sinews. A 
horse can do this. But he is preeminently the work- 
ing man who works with his brain also, and whose 
whole physical system is under the influence of his 
higher faculties. The man who paints a picture, who 
writes a book, who makes a law, who creates a poem, 
is a working man of the highest order, — not so neces- 
sary to the physical sustainment of the community as 
the ploughman or the shepherd ; but not less import- 
ant as providing for society its highest intellectual 
nourishment. 

Having said so much of the importance and the 
necessity of industry, let us see what uses are made 
of the advantages derivable from it. It is clear that 
man would have continued uncivilized but for the ac- 
cumulations of savings made by his forefathers, — the 
savings of skill, of art, of invention, and of intellectual 
culture. 

It is the savings of the world that have made the 
civilization of the world. Savings are the result of 
labor ; and it is only when laborers begin to save, that 



166 THRIFTY INDUSTRY. 

the results of civilization accumulate. We have said 
that thrift began with civilization : we might almost 
have said that thrift produced civilization. Thrift pro- 
duces capital ; and capital is the conserved result of 
labor. The capitalist is merely a man who does not 
spend all that is earned by work. 

But thrift is not a natural instinct. It is an acquired 
principle of conduct. It involves self-denial — the de- 
nial of present enjoyment for future good — the subor- 
dination of animal appetite to reason, forethought, and 
prudence. It works for to-day, but also provides for 
to-morrow. It invests the capital it has saved, and 
makes provision for the future. 

" Man's right of seeing the future," says Mr. Edward 
Denison, " which is conferred on him by reason, has 
attached to it the duty of providing for that future ; 
and our language bears witness to this truth by using, 
as expressive of active precaution against future want, 
a word which in its radical meaning implies only a 
passive foreknowledge of the same. Whenever we 
speak of the virtue of providence, we assume that fore- 
warned is fore-armed. To know the future is no vir- 
tue, but it is the greatest of virtues to prepare for 
it." 1 

But a large proportion of men do not provide for the 

1 Letters of the late Edward Denison* 



THRIFTY INDUSTRY. 1 6/ 

future. They do not remember the past. They think 
only of the present. They preserve nothing. They 
spend all that they earn. They do not provide for 
themselves : they do not provide for their families. 
They may make high wages, but eat and drink the 
whole of what they earn. Such people are constantly 
poor, and hanging on the verge of destitution. 

It is the same with nations. The nations which con- 
sume all that they produce, without leaving a store for 
future production, have no capital. Like thriftless in- 
dividuals, they live from hand to mouth, and are always 
poor and miserable. Nations that have no capital, 
have no commerce. They have no accumulations to 
dispose of ; hence they have no ships, no sailors, no 
docks, no harbors, no canals, and no railways. Thrifty 
industry lies at the root of the civilization of the world. 

Look at Spain. There, the richest soil is the least 
productive. Along the banks of the Guadalquivir, 
where once twelve thousand villages existed, there are 
now not eight hundred ; and they are full of beggars. 
A Spanish proverb says, " El cielo y suelo es bueno, el 
entresuelo malo " — The sky is good, the earth is 
good ; that only is bad which lies between the sky and 
the earth. Continuous effort, or patient labor, is for 
the Spaniard an insupportable thing. Half through 
indolence, half through pride, he cannot bend to work. 



1 68 THRIFTY ECONOMY. 

A Spaniard will blush to work ; he will not blush to 
beg! 1 

It is in this way that society mainly consists of two 
classes — the savers and the wasters, the provident and 
the improvident, the thrifty and the thriftless, the 
Haves and the Have-nots. 

The men who economize by means of labor become 
the owners of capital which sets other labor in motion. 
Capital accumulates in their hands, and they employ 
other laborers to work for them. Thus trade and com- 
merce begin. 

The thrifty build houses, warehouses, and mills. 
They fit manufactories with tools and machines. They 
build ships, and send them to various parts of the 
world. They put their capital together, and build 
railroads, harbors, and docks. They open up mines 
of coal, iron, and copper ; and erect pumping engines 
to keep them clear of water. They employ laborers 
to work the mines, and thus give rise to an immense 
amount of employment. 

All this is the result of thrift. It is the result of 
economizing money, and employing it for beneficial 
purposes. The thriftless man has no share in the 
progress of the world. He spends all that he gets, 
and can give no help to anybody. No matter how 

1 Eugene Poitou — Spain and its People. 



HABITS OF THRIFT. 1 69 

much money he makes, his position is not in any re- 
spect raised. He husbands none of his resources. He 
is always calling for help. He is, in fact, the born 
thrall and slave of the thrifty. 



HABITS OF THRIFT. 

" Die Hauptsache ist dass man lerne sich selbst zu beherrschen." [The great 
matter is to learn to rule one's self.] — Goethe. 

" Most men work for the present, a few for the future. The wise work for 
both — for the future in the present, and for the present in the future." — Guesses 
at Truth. 

" The secret of all success is to know how to deny yourself. ... If you once 
learn to get the whip-hand of yourself, that is the best educator. Prove to me 
that you can control yourself, and I '11 say you 're an educated man ; and with- 
out this, all other education is good for next to nothing." — Mrs. Olifihant. 

"All the world cries, ' Where is the man who will save us? We want a man ! 
Don't look so far for this man. You have him at hand. This man — it is you, 
it is I, it is each one of us ! . . . How to constitute one's self a man? Nothing 
harder, if one knows not how to will it ; nothing easier, if one wills it." — Alex- 
andre Dumas. 

Competence and comfort lie within the reach of 
most people, were they to take the adequate means to 
secure and enjoy them. Men who are paid good wages 
might also become capitalists, and take their fair share 
in the improvement and well-being of the world. But 
it is only by the exercise of labor, energy, honesty, and 
thrift, that they can advance their own position or that 
of their class. 

Society at present suffers far more from waste of 
money than from want of money. It is easier to make 



I70 WORKMEN AND CAPITAL. 

money than to know how to spend it. It is not what a 
man gets that constitutes his wealth, but his manner of 
spending and economizing. And when a man obtains 
by his labor more than enough for his personal and 
family wants, and can lay by a little store of savings 
besides, he unquestionably possesses the elements of 
social well-being. The savings may amount to little, 
but they may be sufficient to make him independent. 

There is no reason why the highly-paid workman of 
to-day may not save a store of capital. It is merely a 
matter of self-denial and private economy. Indeed, 
the principal industrial leaders of to-day consist, for the 
most part, of men who have sprung directly from the 
ranks. It is the accumulation of experience and skill 
that makes the difference between the workman and 
the /^-workman ; and it depends upon the workman 
himself whether he will save his capital or waste it. If 
he save it, he will always find that he has sufficient op- 
portunities for employing it profitably and usefully. 

Thrift of Time is equal to thrift of money. Franklin 
said, " Time is gold." If one wishes to earn money, 
it may be done by the proper use of time. But time 
may also be spent in doing many good and noble ac- 
tions. It may be spent in learning, in study, in art, in 
science, in literature. Time can be economized by sys- 
tem. System is an arrangement to secure certain ends, 



HABITS OF ECONOMY. 171 

so that no time may be lost in accomplishing them. 
Every business man must be systematic and orderly. 
So must every housewife. There must be a place for 
everything, and everything in its place. There must 
also be a time for everything, and everything must be 
done in time. 

It is not necessary to show that economy is useful. 
Nobody denies that thrift may be practised. We see 
numerous examples of it. What many men have al- 
ready done, all other men may do. Nor is thrift a pain- 
ful virtue. On the contrary, it enables us to avoid 
much contempt and many indignities. It requires us 
to deny ourselves, but not to abstain from any proper 
enjoyment. It provides many honest pleasures, of 
which thriftlessness and extravagance deprive us. 

Thrift does not require superior courage, nor supe- 
rior intellect, nor any superhuman virtue. It merely 
requires common sense, and the power of resisting self- 
ish enjoyments. In fact, thrift is merely common sense 
in every-day working action. It needs no fervent res- 
olution, but only a little patient self-denial. Begin is 
its device ! The more the habit of thrift is practised, 
the easier it becomes \ and the sooner it compensates 
the self-denier for the sacrifices which it has imposed. 

The question may be asked, — Is it possible for a 
man working for small wages to save anything, and lay 



I J 2 SELF-INDULGENCE. 

it by in a savings bank, when he requires every penny 
for the maintenance of his family ? But the fact re- 
mains, that it is done by many industrious and sober 
men ; that they do deny themselves, and put their 
spare earnings into savings banks, and the other recep- 
tacles provided for poor men's savings. And if some 
can do this, all may do it under similar circumstances, 
— without depriving themselves of any genuine pleas- 
ure, or any real enjoyment 

How intensely selfish it is for a person in the receipt 
of good pay to spend everything upon himself, — or, if 
he has a family, to spend his whole earnings from week 
to week, and lay nothing by. When we hear that a 
man, who has been in the receipt of a good salary, has 
died and left nothing behind him — that he has left his 
wife and family destitute — left them to chance — to 
live or perish anywhere, — we cannot but regard it as 
the most selfish thriftlessness. And yet, comparatively 
little is thought of such cases. Perhaps the hat goes 
round. Subscriptions may produce something — per- 
haps nothing ; and the ruined remnants of the unhappy 
family sink into poverty and destitution. 

Yet the merest prudence would, to a great extent, 
have obviated this result. The curtailment of any sen- 
sual and selfish enjoyment — of a glass of beer or a 
plug of tobacco — would enable a man, in the course 



RESULTS OF THRIFTLESSNESS. 1 73 

of years, to save at least something for others, instead 
of wasting it on himself. It is, in fact, the absolute 
duty of the poorest man to provide, in however slight a 
degree, for the support of himself and his family in the 
season of sickness and helplessness which often comes 
upon men when they least expect such a visitation. 

Comparatively few people can be rich ; but most 
' have it in their power to acquire, by industry and econ- 
omy, sufficient to meet their personal wants. They 
may even become the possessors of savings sufficient 
to secure' them against penury and poverty in their old 
age. It is not, however, the want of opportunity, but 
the want of will that stands in the way of economy. 
Men may labor unceasingly with hand or head; but 
they cannot abstain from spending too freely, and liv- 
ing too highly. 

The majority prefer the enjoyment of pleasure to 
the practice of self-denial. With the mass of men, the 
animal is paramount. They often spend all that they 
earn. But it is not merely the working people who 
are spendthrifts. We hear of men who for years have 
been earning and spending hundreds and thousands a 
year, who suddenly die, — leaving their children penni- 
less. Everybody knows of such cases. At their death, 
the very furniture of the house they have lived in be- 
longs to others. It is sold to pay their funeral ex- 



174 USES OF SAVED MONEY. 

penses and the debts which they have incurred during 
their thriftless lifetime. 

Money represents a multitude of objects without 
value, or without real utility ; but it also represents 
something much more precious, — and that is independ- 
ence. In this light it is of great moral importance. 

As a guarantee of independence, the modest and 
plebeian quality of economy is at once ennobled and 
raised to the rank of one of the most meritorious of 
virtues. " Never treat money affairs with levity," said 
Bulwer; " Money is Character." Some of man's best 
qualities depend upon the right use of money, — such 
as his generosity, benevolence, justice, honesty, and 
forethought. Many of his worst qualities also origi- 
nate in the bad use of money, — such as greed, miser- 
liness, injustice, extravagance, and improvidence. 

No class ever accomplished anything that lived from 
hand to mouth. People who spend all that they earn, 
are ever hanging on the brink of destitution. They 
must necessarily be weak and impotent — the slaves 
of time and circumstance. They keep themselves 
poor. They lose self-respect, as well as the respect 
of others. It is impossible that they can be free and 
independent. To be thriftless is enough to deprive 
one of all manly spirit and virtue. 

But a man with something saved, no matter how 



USES OF SAVED MONEY. 175 

little, is in a different position. The little capital he 
has stored up is always a source of power. He is no 
longer the sport of time and fate. He can boldly look 
the world in the face. He is, in a manner, his own 
master. He can dictate his own terms. He can 
neither be bought nor sold. He can look forward with 
cheerfulness to an old age of comfort and happiness. 

As men become wise and thoughtful, they generally 
become provident and frugal. A thoughtless man, 
like a savage, spends as he gets, thinking nothing of 
to-morrow, of the time of adversity, or of the claims 
of those whom he has made dependent on him. But a 
wise man thinks of the future ; he prepares in good 
time for the evil day that may come upon him and his 
family; and he provides carefully for those who are 
near and dear to him. 

What a serious responsibility does the man incur 
who marries ! Not many seriously think of this re- 
sponsibility. Perhaps this is wisely ordered. For, 
much serious thinking might end in the avoidance of 
married life and its responsibilities. But, once mar- 
ried, a man ought forthwith to determine that, so far 
as his own efforts are concerned, want shall never enter 
his household ; and that his children shall not, in the 
event of his being removed from the scene of life and 
labor, be left a burden upon society. 



I76 EXTRAVAGANT LIVING. 

Economy with this object is an important duty. 
Without economy, no man can be just — no man can 
be honest. Improvidence is cruelty to women and 
children ; though the cruelty is born of ignorance. A 
father spends his surplus means in drink, providing 
little, and saving nothing ; and then he dies, leaving his 
destitute family his lifelong victims. Can any form of 
cruelty surpass this? Yet this reckless course is pur- 
sued to a large extent among every class. The middle 
and upper classes are equally guilty with the lower 
class. They live beyond their means. They live ex- 
travagantly. They are ambitious of glare and glitter — 
frivolity and pleasure. They struggle to be rich, that 
they may have the means of spending, — of drinking 
rich wines, and giving good dinners. 

When Mr. Hume said in the House of Commons, 
some years ago, that the tone of living in England was 
altogether too high, his observation was followed with 
" loud laughter." Yet his remark was perfectly true. 
It is far more true now than it was then. Thinking 
people believe that life is now T too fast, and that we are 
living at high-pressure. In short, we live extrava- 
gantly. We live beyond our means. We throw away 
our earnings, and often throw our lives after them. 

Many persons are diligent enough in making money, 
but do not know how to economize it, — or how to 



BARGAIN-BUYING. I *]>J 

spend it. They have sufficient skill and industry to do 
the one, but they want the necessary wisdom to do the 
other. The temporary passion for enjoyment seizes us, 
and we give way to it without regard to consequences. 
And yet it may be merely the result of forgetfulness, 
and might be easily controlled by firmness of will, and 
by energetic resolution to avoid the occasional causes 
of expenditure for the future. 

The habit of saving arises, for the most part, in the 
desire to ameliorate our social condition, as well as to 
ameliorate the condition of those who are dependent 
upon us. It dispenses with everything which is not 
essential, and avoids all methods of living that are 
wasteful and extravagant. A purchase made at the 
lowest price will be dear, if it be a superfluity. Little 
expenses lead to great. Buying things that are not 
wanted soon accustoms us to prodigality in other re- 
spects. 

Cicero said, " Not to have a mania for buying, is 
to possess a revenue." Many are carried away by the 
habit of bargain-buying. " Here is something won- 
derfully cheap : let us buy it." " Have you any use 
for it ? " " No, not at present ; but it is sure to come in 
useful, some time." Fashion runs in this habit of buy- 
ing. Some buy old china — as much as will furnish a 
china-shop. Others buy old pictures — old furniture — 

12 



I78 THRIFT AND UNTHRIFT. 

all great bargains ! There would be little harm in 
buying these old things, if they were not so often 
bought at the expense of the connoisseur's creditors. 
Horace Walpole once said, " I hope that there will 
not be another sale, for I have not an inch of room 
nor a farthing left." 

Men must prepare in youth and in middle age the 
means of enjoying old age pleasantly and happily. 
There can be nothing more distressing than to see an 
old man who has spent the greater part of his life in 
well-paid-for labor, reduced to the necessity of begging 
for bread, and relying entirely on the commiseration of 
his neighbors, or upon the bounty of strangers. Such 
a consideration as this should inspire men in early life 
with a determination to work and to save, for the ben- 
efit of themselves and their families in later years. 

It is, in fact, in youth that economy should be prac- 
tised, and in old age that men should dispense liber- 
ally, provided they do not exceed their income. The 
young man has a long future before him, during which 
he may exercise the principles of economy ; whilst the 
other is reaching the end of his career, and can carry 
nothing out of the world with him. 

This, however, is not the usual practice. The young 
man now spends, or desires to spend, quite as liberally, 
and often much more liberally, than his father, who 



JOHNSON ON ECONOMY. 179 

is about to end his career. He begins life where his 
father left off. He spends more than his father did at 
his age, and soon finds himself up to his ears in debt. 
To satisfy his incessant wants, he resorts to unscru- 
pulous means, and to illicit gains. He tries to make 
money rapidly ; he speculates, over-trades, and is 
speedily wound up. Thus he obtains experience ; but 
it is the result, not of well-doing, but of ill-doing. 

Socrates recommends fathers of families to observe 
the practice of their thrifty neighbors — of those who 
spend their means to the best advantage, — and to 
profit by their example. Thrift is essentially practical, 
and can best be taught by facts. Two men earn, say, 
two dollars a day. They are in precisely the same con- 
dition as respects family living, and expenditure. Yet 
the one says he cannot save, and does not ; while the 
other says he can save, and regularly deposits part of 
his savings in a savings bank, and eventually becomes 
a capitalist. 

Samuel Johnson fully knew the straits of poverty. 
He once signed his name Impra7isns, or Dinnerless. 
He had walked the streets with Savage, not knowing 
where to lay his head at night. Johnson never forgot 
the poverty through which he passed in his early life, 
and he was always counselling his friends and readers 
to avoid it. Like Cicero, he averred that the best 



l8o JOHNSON ON ECONOMY. 

source of wealth or well-being was economy. He called 
it the daughter of Prudence, the sister of Temperance, 
and the mother of Liberty. 

"Poverty," he said, "takes away so many means of 
doing good, and produces so much inability to resist 
evil, both natural and moral, that it is by all virtuous 
means to be avoided. Resolve, then, not to be poor ; 
whatever you have, spend less. Frugality is not only 
the basis of quiet, but of beneficence. No man can 
help others who wants help himself ; we must have 
enough before we have to spare." 

And again he said, " Poverty is a great enemy to 
human happiness. It certainly destroys liberty, and 
it makes some virtues impracticable, and others ex- 
tremely difficult. . . . All to whom want is terrible, 
upon whatever principle, ought to think themselves 
obliged to learn the sage maxims of our parsimonious 
ancestors, and attain the salutary arts of contracting 
expense ; for without economy none can be rich, and 
with it few can be poor." 

When economy is looked upon as a thing that must 
be practised, it will never be felt as a burden ; and 
those who have not before observed it, will be as- 
tonished to find what a few dimes or quarters laid 
aside weekly, will do towards securing moral elevation, 
mental culture, and personal independence. 



SELF-RESPECT. l8l 

There is a dignity in every attempt to economize. 
Its very practice is improving. It indicates self-denial, 
and imparts strength to the character. It produces a 
well-regulated mind. It fosters temperance. It is 
based on forethought. It makes prudence the domi- 
nating characteristic. It gives virtue the mastery over 
self-indulgence. Above all, it secures comfort, drives 
away care, and dispels many vexations and anxieties 
which might otherwise prey upon us. 

Some will say, " It can't be done." But everybody 
can do something. " It can't " is the ruin of men and 
of nations. In fact, there is no greater cant that 'can't. 
Take an instance. A ten-cent cigar a day is equal to 
$36.50 a year. This sum will insure a man's life for 
$2,000, payable at death. The man who spends twenty 
cents a day, uselessly squanders in fifty years nearly 
ten thousand dollars. 

A master recommended one of his workmen to " lay 
by something for a rainy day." Shortly after, the 
master asked the man how much he had added to his 
store. " Faith, nothing at all," said he ; "I did as you 
bid me ; but it rained very hard yesterday, and it all 
went — in drink ! " 

Tha,t a man should maintain himself and his family 
without the help of others, is due to his sense of self- 
respect. Every genuine, self-helping man ought to 



1 82 SELF-RESPECT. 

respect himself. He is the centre of his own little 
world. His personal loves, likings, experiences, hopes, 
and fears, — how important they are to him, although 
of little consequence to others. They affect his hap- 
piness, his daily life, and his whole being as a man. 
He cannot therefore but feel interested, deeply inter- 
ested in all that concerns himself. 

To do justice, a man must think well not only of 
himself, but of the duties which he owes to others. 
He must not aim too low, but regard man as created 
" a little lower than the angels." Let him think of 
his high destiny — of the eternal interests in which he 
has a part — of the great scheme of nature and provi- 
dence — of the intellect with which he has been en- 
dowed — of the power of loving conferred upon him — 
of the home on earth provided for him ; and he will 
cease to think meanly of himself. The poorest human 
being is the centre of two eternities — the Creator 
o'ershadowing all. 

Hence, let every man respect himself, — his body, 
his mind, his character. Self-respect, originating in 
self-love, instigates the first step of improvement. It 
stimulates a man to rise, to look upward, to develop 
his intelligence, to improve his condition. Self-respect 
is the root of most of the virtues — of cleanliness, 
chastity, reverence, honesty, sobriety. To think 



SELF-HELP. 183 

meanly of one's self is to sink ; sometimes to descend 
a precipice at the bottom of which is infamy. 

Every man can help himself to some extent. We 
are not mere straws thrown upon the current to mark 
its course ; but possessed of freedom of action, en- 
dowed with power to stem the waves and rise above 
them, each marking out a course for himself. We can 
each elevate ourselves in the scale of moral being. We 
can cherish pure thoughts. We can perform good ac- 
tions. We can live soberly and frugally. We can pro- 
vide against the evil day. We can read good books, 
listen to wise teachers, and place ourselves under the 
divinest influences on earth. We can live for the high- 
est purposes, and with the highest aims in view. 

" Self-love and social are the same," says one of our 
poets. The man who improves himself, improves the 
world. He adds one more true man to the mass. 
And the mass being made up of individuals, it is clear 
that were each to improve himself, the result would 
be the improvement of the whole. Social advance- 
ment is the consequence of individual advancement. 
The whole cannot be pure, unless the individuals com- 
posing it are pure. Society at large is but the reflex 
of individual conditions. All this is but the repetition 
of a truism, but truisms have often to be repeated to 
make their full impression. 



1 84 UNCERTAINTY OF LIFE. 

The sum and substance of our remarks is this : In 
all the individual reforms or improvements that we 
desire, we must begin with ourselves. We must ex- 
hibit our gospel in our own life. We must teach by 
our own example. If we would have others elevated, 
we must elevate ourselves. Each man can exhibit the 
results in his own person. He can begin with self- 
respect. 

The uncertainty of life is a strong inducement to 
provide against the evil day. To do this is a moral 
and social, as well as a religious duty. " He that pro- 
videth not for his own, and especially for those of his 
own household, hath denied the faith, and is worse 
than an infidel. " 

The uncertainty of life is proverbially true. The 
strongest and healthiest man may be stricken down 
in a moment, by accident or disease. If we take hu- 
man life in the mass, we cannot fail to recognize the 
uncertainty of life as much as we do the certainty of 
death. 

There is a striking passage in Addison's " Vision of 
Mirza," in which life is pictured as a passage over a 
bridge of about a hundred arches. A black cloud 
hangs over each end of the bridge. At the entrance 
to it there are hidden pitfalls very thickly set, through 
which throngs disappear, so soon as they have placed 



UNCERTAINTY OF LIFE. 1 85 

their feet upon the bridge. They grow thinner to- 
wards the centre ; they gradually disappear ; until at 
length only a few persons reach the further side, and 
these also having dropped through the pitfalls, the 
bridge at its further extremity becomes entirely clear. 
The description of Addison corresponds with the re- 
sults of the observations made as to the duration of 
human life. 

Thus, of a hundred thousand persons born in this 
country, it has been ascertained that a fourth of them 
die before they have reached their fifth year ; and one- 
half before they have reached their fiftieth year. One 
thousand one hundred will reach their ninetieth year. 
Sixteen will live to a hundred. And only two persons 
out of the hundred thousand — like the last barks of 
an innumerable convoy, will reach the advanced and 
helpless age of a hundred and five years. 

Two things are very obvious, — the uncertainty as to 
the hour of death in individuals, but the regularity and 
constancy of the circumstances which influence the 
duration of human life in the aggregate. It is a mat- 
ter of certainty that the average life of all persons born 
in this country extends to about forty-five years. This 
has been proved by a very large number of observa- 
tions of human life and its duration. 

Equally extensive observations have been made as 



1 86 LAWS OF MORTALITY. 

to the average number of persons of various ages who 
die yearly. It is always the number of the experiments 
which gives the law of the probability. It is on such 
observations that the actuary founds his estimates of 
the mortality that exists at any given period of life. 
The actuary tells you that he has been guided by the 
Laws of Mortality. Now the results must be very reg- 
ular, to justify the actuary in speaking of Mortality as 
governed by Laws. And yet it is so. 

Indeed, there would seem to be no such thing as 
chance in the world. Man lives and dies in conformity 
to a law. A sparrow falls to the ground in obedience 
to a law. Nay, there are matters in the ordinary trans- 
actions of life, such as one might suppose were the 
mere result of chance, which are ascertained to be of 
remarkable accuracy when taken in the mass. For in- 
stance, the number of letters put in the post-office 
without an address ; the number of letters wrongly di- 
rected ; the number containing money ; the number un- 
stamped ; continue nearly the same, in relation to the 
number of letters posted, from one year to another. 

Now, it is the business of man to understand the 
laws of health, and to provide against their conse- 
quences, — as, for instance, in the matter of sickness, 
accident, and premature death. We cannot escape 
the consequences of transgression of the natural laws, 



WILL NOBODY HELP US? 1 87 

though we may have meant well. We must have done 
well. The Creator does not alter His laws to accom- 
modate them to our ignorance. He has furnished us 
with intelligence, so that we may understand them and 
act upon them : otherwise we must suffer the conse- 
quences in inevitable pain and sorrow. 

We often hear the cry raised, " Will nobody help 
us ? " It is a spiritless, hopeless cry. It is sometimes 
a cry of revolting meanness, especially when it issues 
from those who with a little self-denial, sobriety, and 
thrift, might easily help themselves. 

Many people have yet to learn, that virtue, knowl- 
edge, freedom, and prosperity must spring from them- 
selves. Legislation can do very little for them : it 
cannot make them sober, intelligent, and well-doing. 
The prime miseries of most men have their origin in 
causes far removed from acts of the legislature. 

The spendthrift laughs at legislation. The drunkard 
defies it, and arrogates the right of dispensing with 
forethought and self-denial, — throwing upon others 
the blame of his ultimate wretchedness. The mob 
orators, who gather " the millions " about them, are 
very wide of the mark, when, instead of seeking to 
train their crowd of hearers to habits of frugality, tem- 
perance, and self-culture, they encourage them to keep 
up the cry, " Will nobody help us ? " 



1 88 PROSPEROUS TIMES 

The cry sickens the soul. It shows gross ignorance 
of the first elements of personal welfare. Help is in 
men themselves. They were born to help and to ele- 
vate themselves. They must work out their own salva- 
tion. The poorest men have done it : why should not 
every man do it ? The brave, upward spirit ever con- 
quers. 

The number of well-paid workmen in this country 
has become very large, who might easily save and 
economize, to the improvement of their moral well- 
being, of their respectability and independence, and of 
their status in society as men and citizens. They are 
. improvident and thriftless to an extent which proves 
not less hurtful to their personal happiness and domes- 
tic comfort, than it is injurious to the society of which 
they form so important a part. 

In " prosperous times " they spend their gains reck- 
lessly, and when adverse times come, they are at once 
plunged in misery. Money is not used, but abused ; 
and when wage-earning people should be providing 
against old age, or for the wants of a growing family, 
they are, in too many cases, feeding folly, dissipation, 
and vice. Let no one say that this is an exaggerated 
picture. It is enough to look round in any neighbor- 
hood, and see how much is spent and how little is 
saved ; what a large proportion of earnings goes to 



THE LEAST PROSPEROUS. 1 89 

the beershop, and how little to the savings bank or 
the benefit society. 

" Prosperous times " are very often the least pros- 
perous of all times. In prosperous times, mills are 
working full time ; men, women, and children are paid 
high wages ; warehouses are emptied and filed ; goods 
are manufactured and exported ; carts full of produce 
pass along the streets ■ immense freight trains run 
along the railways, and heavily-laden ships leave our 
shores daily for foreign ports, full of the products of 
our industry. Everybody seems to be becoming richer 
and more prosperous. But we do not think of whether 
men and women are becoming wiser, better trained, 
less self-indulgent, more religiously disposed, or liv- 
ing for any higher purpose than the satisfaction of the 
animal appetite. 

If this apparent prosperity be closely examined, it 
will be found that expenditure is increasing in all di- 
rections. There are demands for higher wages; and 
the higher wages, when obtained, are spent as soon as 
earned. Intemperate habits are formed, and, once 
formed, the habit of intemperance continues. Increased 
wages, instead of being saved, are for the most part 
spent. 

Thus, when a population is thoughtless and improv- 
ident, no kind of material prosperity will benefit them. 



I90 NATIONAL PROSPERITY. 

Unless they exercise forethought and economy they 
will alternately be in a state of " hunger and burst.'' 
When trade falls off, as it usually does after exceptional 
prosperity, they will not be comforted by the thought 
of what they might have saved, had it ever occurred to 
them that the "prosperous times" might not prove 
permanent. 

If man's chief end were to manufacture cloth, silk, 
cotton, hardware, toys, and china ; to cultivate land, 
grow corn, and graze cattle \ to live for mere money 
profit, and hoard or spend, as the case might be, we 
might then congratulate ourselves upon our National 
Prosperity. But is this the chief end of man ? Has he 
not faculties, affections, and sympathies, besides muscu- 
lar organs ? Has not his mind and heart certain claims, 
as well as his mouth and his back ? Has he not a soul 
as well as a stomach ? And ought not " prosperity " to 
include the improvement and well-being of his morals 
and intellect as well as of his bones and muscles ? 

Mere money is no indication of prosperity. A man's 
nature may remain the same. It may even grow more 
stunted and deformed, while he is doubling his expen- 
diture, or adding cent, per cent, to his hoards yearly. 
It is the same with the mass. The increase of their 
gains may merely furnish them with increased means 
for gratifying animal indulgences, unless their moral 



NATIONAL PROSPERITY. 191 

character keeps pace with their physical advancement. 
Double the gains of an uneducated, overworked man, 
in a time of prosperity, and what is the result ? Simply 
that you have furnished him with the means of eating 
and drinking more ! Thus, not even the material well- 
being of the population is secured by that condition of 
things which is defined by political economists as " Na- 
tional Prosperity." And so long as the moral elements 
of the question are ignored, this kind of " prosperity " 
is, we believe, calculated to produce far more mischiev- 
ous results than good. It is knowledge and virtue 
alone that can confer dignity on a man's life; and the 
growth of such qualities in a nation are the only true 
marks of its real prosperity ; not the infinite manufac- 
ture and sale of cotton prints, toys, hardware, and 
crockery. 

In making the preceding observations we do not in 
the least advocate the formation of miserly, penurious 
habits; for we hate the scrub, the miser. All that 
we contend for is, that man should provide for the 
future, — that they should provide during good times 
for the bad times which almost invariably follow them, 
— that they should lay by a store of savings as a break- 
water against want, and make sure of a little fund 
which may maintain them in old age, secure their self- 
respect, and add to their personal comfort and social 



I92 METHODS OF ECONOMY. 

well-being. Thrift is not in any way connected with 
avarice, usury, greed, or selfishness. It is, in fact, the 
very reverse of these disgusting dispositions It means 
economy for the purpose of securing independence. 
Thrift requires that money should be used and not 
abused — that it should be honestly earned and eco- 
nomically employed — 

" Not for to put it in a hedge, 
Not for a train attendant, — 
But for the glorious privilege 
Of being Independent." 



METHODS OF ECONOMY. 

11 It was with profound wisdom that the Romans called by the same name cour- 
age and virtue. There is in fact no virtue, properly so called, without victory 
over ourselves : and what costs us nothing, is worth nothing." — De Maistre. 

11 Almost all the advantages which man possesses above the inferior animals, 
arise from his power of acting in combination with his fellows ; and of accom- 
plishing by the united efforts of numbers what could not be accomplished by the 
detached efforts of individuals." — J. S. Mill. 

" For the future, our main security will be in the wider diffusion of Property, 
and in all such measures as will facilitate this result. With the possession of prop- 
erty will come Conservative instincts, and disinclination for rash and reckless 
schemes. . . . We trust much, therefore, to the rural population becoming Pro- 
prietors, and to the urban population becoming Capitalists." — IV. R. Greg. 

The methods of practicing economy are very simple. 
Spend less than you earn. That is the first rule. A 
portion should always be set apart for the future. The 
person who spends more than he earns, is a fool. The 
civil law regards the spendthrift as akin to the lunatic, 



KEEPING REGULAR ACCOUNT. 1 93 

and frequently takes from him the management of his 
own affairs. 

The next rule is to pay ready money, and never, on 
any account, to run into debt. The person who runs 
into debt is apt to get cheated ; and if he runs into debt 
to any extent, he will himself be apt to get dishonest. 
" Who pays what he owes, enriches himself." 

The next is, never to anticipate uncertain profits by 
expending them before they are secured. The profits 
may never come, and in that case you will have taken 
upon yourself a load of debt which you may never get 
rid of. It will sit upon your shoulders like the old 
man in Sinbad. 

Another method of economy is, to keep a regular ac- 
count of all that you earn, and of all that you expend. 
An orderly man will know beforehand what he requires, 
and will be provided with the necessary means for ob- 
taining it. Thus his domestic budget will be balanced ; 
and his expenditure kept within his income. 

John Wesley regularly adopted this course. Al- 
though he possessed a small income, he always kept 
his eyes upon the state of his affairs. A year before 
his death, he wrote with a trembling hand, in his Jour- 
nal of Expenses ; " For more than eighty-six years I 
have kept my accounts exactly. I do not care to con- 
tinue to do so any longer, having the conviction that I 
13 



194 GENEROSITY AND FORETHOUGHT. 

economize all that I obtain, and give all that I can, — 
that is to say all that I have." 

Besides these methods of economy, the eye of the 
master or the mistress is always necessary to see that 
nothing is lost, that everything is put to its proper use 
and kept in its proper place, and that all things are 
done decently and in order. It does no dishonor to 
even the highest individuals to take a personal interest 
in their own affairs. And with persons of moderate 
means, the necessity for the eye of the master over- 
looking everything, is absolutely necessary for the 
proper conduct of business. 

It is difficult to fix the precise limits of economy. 
Bacon says that if a man would live well within his in- 
come, he ought not to expend more than one-half and 
save the rest. This is perhaps too exacting ; and Bacon 
himself did not follow his own advice. What propor- 
tion of one's income should be expended on rent? 
That depends upon circumstances. It is at all events 
better to save too much, than spend too much. One 
may remedy the first defect, but not so easily the latter. 
Wherever there is a large family, the more money that 
is put to one side and saved, the better. 

Economy is necessary to the moderately rich, as well 
as to the comparatively poor man. Without economy, 
a man cannot be generous. He cannot take part in 



PRUDENT ECONOMY. I95 

the charitable work of the world. If he spends all that 
he earns, he can help nobody. He cannot properly 
educate his children, nor put them in the way of start- 
ing fairly in the business of life. Even the example of 
Bacon shows that the loftiest intelligence cannot ne- 
glect thrift without peril. But thousands of witnesses 
daily testify, that men even of the most moderate intel- 
ligence, can practise the virtue with success. 

Although the American people are a diligent, hard- 
working, and generally self-reliant race, trusting to 
themselves and their own efforts for their sustenance 
and advancement in the world, they are yet liable to 
overlook and neglect some of the best practical meth- 
ods of improving their position, and securing their so- 
cial well-being. They are not yet sufficiently educated 
to be temperate, provident, and foreseeing. They live 
for the present, and are too regardless of the coming 
time. Men who are husbands and parents, generally 
think they do their duty if they provide for the hour 
that is, neglectful of the hour that is to come. Though 
industrious, they are improvident ; though money-mak- 
ing, they are spendthrift. They do not exercise fore- 
thought enough, and are defective in the virtue of pru- 
dent economy. 

Men of all classes are, as yet, too little influenced by 
these considerations. They are apt to live beyond their 



196 prudent economy. 

incomes, — at all events, to live up to them. The up- 
per classes live too much for display ; they must keep 
up their " position in society;" they must have fine 
houses, horses, and carriages ; give good dinners, and 
drink rich wines ; their ladies must wear costly and gay 
dresses. Thus the march of improvidence goes on over 
broken hearts, ruined hopes, and wasted ambitions. 

The vice descends in society, — the middle classes 
strive to ape the patrician orders ; they flourish crests, 
liveries, and hammercloths ; their daughters must learn 
" accomplishments " — see " society " — ride and drive 
— frequent operas and theatres. Display is the rage, 
ambition rivalling ambition ; and thus the vicious folly 
rolls on like a tide. The vice again descends. The 
working classes, too, live up to their means — much 
smaller means, it is true ; but even when they are able, 
they are not sufficiently careful to provide against the 
evil day ; and then only the poorhouse offers its scanty 
aid to protect them against want. 






^ 4& &> &<& & «& 4&<& 4^ <& 4^4^ & & 4^«#> 4 s * «& 




ELF-MADE 




SELF-MADE MEN. 




^HE biography of every man who has risen to 
eminence of any kind by his own talent and 
industry, is a lesson and stimulus to all who 
read it. Self-made men are living witnesses that God 
has endowed man with the material and powers neces- 
sary to accomplish the most desirable fortune and 
fame, and that it is by no means essential to a man's 
success or greatness that he has, or has not, the in- 
herited appliances of aristocratic birth, wealth, and 
consequent position, "forearming him" for his en- 
counter with the world. 

The greatest names on the page of history belong to 
men who have risen from obscure birth, against wealth, 
and in defiance of what is called disadvantageous 
position. Bearing in their nature the sacred fire, they 
have kindled at the breath of the opposing tempest, 
and by unwearied, undaunted struggle, dawned day by 



200 SELF-MADE MEN. 

day into a broader, stronger, and more beautiful life, 
Such men, trusting to no fortuitous aids, and owing 
nothing to chances, have so beaten their pathway up- 
ward that they could not be thrust down by the acci- 
dents which disarm and discourage the mere favorite 
of circumstances. 

It is not the men who have inherited most, except it 
is in nobility of soul and purpose, who have risen 
highest; but rather the men with no dower save soul 
and purpose, who have made fortunate and adverse 
circumstances alike a spur to goad their steed up the 
steep and stubborn mount, where 

" Fame's proud temple shines afar." 

To such men, every possible goal is accomplishable, 
and honest ambition has no height which genius or 
talent may tread, which has not felt the impress of 
their feet. 

The list of men who have risen from obscurity — 
and in some cases poverty — to fame and fortune, is a 
long one, and would occupy more space than can be 
given within the compass of a reasonable book. 

From a farm to the Presidential chair seems a long 
distance, but Abraham Lincoln traveled that distance, 
became President of the United States, and left behind 
him a name and reputation which will never die. 
Andrew Johnson began life as a tailor, and subse- 



SELF-MADE MEN. 201 

quently rose to the position of chief officer of the 
nation. George Peabody, when a boy, was an ap- 
prentice in a country store, and ended as a million- 
aire, leaving behind him a reputation for philanthropy 
which will never be forgotten. John Jacob Astor 
began life as a fur beater, and amassed an immense 
fortune. A. T. Stewart, from a s*chool teacher, became 
the owner of the largest dry-goods house in the 
country, and one of the wealthiest men in the world. 
Cyrus W. Field was in early life a clerk, and to him, 
in a great measure, the world is indebted for the suc- 
cessful completion of the Atlantic cable. Samuel F. 
B. Morse, from an artist, became the inventor of the 
electric telegraph. Elihu B. Washburne, when a boy, 
worked in a printing office, and has risen to a very 
high position in the government of the nation. Dwight 
L. Moody, the great evangelist, from an uneducated, 
humble city missionary in Chicago, has been the 
means of infusing new life and energy into the Chris- 
tian church, both in Great Britain and America; and 
has preached before the most learned and educated 
men of the day. And the great and illustrious General, 
and twice President of America, Ulysses S. Grant, 
began life as a tanner. His career is a marvellous 
one, and his ability and patriotism have been gener- 
ously recognized, not only by the American people, 



202 SELF-MADE MEN. 

but by the whole world. Charles Dickens, the great 
novelist, began life as a newspaper reporter, and his 
name and fame are now world-wide. Thomas Carlyle, 
a farmer's son, stands to-day at the head of the literary 
profession, and is known as " The Chelsea Philoso- 
pher." His writings and utterances show him to be a 
far-seeing, acute, and clear-headed observer, and his 
fame is already honored by all classes of the people. 
We append a few sketches of prominent men, who 
have risen from the ranks, and whose lives form noble 
examples of perseverance under difficulties, and of 
triumph over all obstacles. 






W£s 



ELIHU B. WASHBURNE. 



"F it be true of men that " blood will tell," the suc- 
cess in life achieved by Elihu B. Washburne, of 
Illinois, who was a farmer's boy, a printer's 
apprentice, who has teen a lawyer, statesman, and 
diplomat, and who is to-day foremost among the men 
who may claim to be representative Americans, is to 
a, great extent accounted for in advance. His father, 
Israel Washburne, was a native of Massachusetts, a 
man of high honor and sterling integrity, who removed 
to the district of Maine in 1806, and in 1809 settled 
at Livermore, Oxford County, that State, where he 
died in September, 1876, at the age of 92 years. Mr. 
Washburne's mother was a daughter of Samuel Ben- 
jamin, who descended directly from the Pilgrim 
Fathers, and who figured prominently in the Revolu- 
tionary War. 

Mr. Washburne was the third of seven brothers, 



20G SELF-MADE MEN. 

several of whom have held important positions in the 
country's service. 

Springing from such stock, Elihu B. Washburne was 
born at Livermore, in Oxford County, in September, 
1816. The simple story of his early youth, filled as it 
is with notes of many vicissitudes, and being as it was 
a constant struggle, a ceaseless battle to wring hard 
fare from inhospitable surroundings, is not only most 
interesting but exceedingly instructive. From his 
earliest infancy young Elihu was taught to believe that 
there was no nonsense in this life, and that the best 
men, unlike the Vicar of Wakefield, never tired of 
being always wise. His father kept a small country 
store, and he, as early as his 7th year, was taught to 
" make himself generally useful," gathering chips, 
carrying wood, picking stones from off the sterile 
pasture land, driving cows, and doing many other 
" chores " of the same sort. He went to school a few 
weeks in winter, and again for a few weeks in summer; 
but, as may readily be imagined, learned but little. 
About his father's store, however, being a lad of 
keenest intelligence, he picked up much useful and 
miscellaneous information. 

In June, 1833, he secured the situation of an ap- 
prentice in the office of the Christian Intelligencer, 
published at Gardiner, Me., and in his new position 



ELIHU B. WASHBURNE. 207 

learned rapidly. In addition to the rudiments of his 
trade, he picked up much odd information, and as 
politics ran high at the time, and the newspaper office 
was the great place for political discussion, he soon 
became thoroughly conversant with all the election 
news of the period. Taking his cue from his father, 
who once in his hearing had denounced Andrew 
Jackson as utterly unfit to be President, as an officer 
who had hanged men in Florida without warrant of 
law, who had trampled the rights of the Judiciary 
under foot at New Orleans— he even at this early age 
conceived a bitter dislike to the Democracy, which 
clung to him in all his after life, and did much to make 
him, as he since has been, one of the leaders of the 
Republican party. Of this period in his career, Mr. 
Washburne wrote, some years ago, in a private diary: 
" As time rolled on, I was quite pleased and contented 
in my trade. I learned to set type rapidly, and had 
also begun to work a little at the press. I did not con- 
sider that I had to labor very hard, and I had a good 
deal of leisure time to read and study. I read all the 
exchange papers, and contracted the habit of news- 
paper reading, which has not left me to this day. I 
don't think I ever wasted an hour, but devoted myself 
entirely to the acquisition of knowledge. To a boy 
who is desirous of educating himself, there is not a 
ii 



208 SELF-MADE MEN. 

better school than a printing-office. I am satisfied 
that I learned more in the one year I was in the 
Intelligencer office than I ever learned in any one 
year of my life." 

Unfortunately, the boy's pleasant situation was not 
long to continue. The paper with which he was con- 
nected failed, and he was thrown out into the world 
without employment or any hope of obtaining another 
situation. Still he did not despair, and, returning to 
the neighborhood of his home, by the influence of 
friends, after passing a severe examination, he was 
selected to teach the district school, his compensation 
being |ioa month, and it being stipulated that he was 
to "board around" among the neighboring families. 
He was barely 18 years of age when he entered upon 
the duties of schoolmaster. Many of his pupils were 
much older and stronger than himself, several of them 
were notorious mischief-makers, and the winter before 
the schoolmaster had been, by a number of riotous 
pupils, turned bodily out of the school and the school 
itself closed up. By every means in his power, desir- 
ing to avoid a collision with them, the young master 
tried to conciliate his scholars, and for a while suc- 
ceeded admirably. After the second week, however, 
he began to see symptoms of revolt, and he made up 
his mind that upon the first opportunity he would give 



ELIHU B. WASHBURNE. 209 

the big boys who were disposed to be impertinent a 
taste of his mettle. He soon had the opportunity. 
The class was up before him for recitation, when one 
of the biggest and worst lads in school not only 
declined to obey his orders, but impertinently laughed 
in his face. Without a word young Washburne sprang 
from his place, and, with a heavy ruler, beat the 
rebellious pupil so vigorously over the head and 
shoulders that he soon cried for mercy, and, together 
with his companions who had been most unruly, ever 
afterward submitted to discipline meekly and without 
dispute. Schoolmaster Washburne had no further 
trouble in maintaining the decorum of the establish- 
ment. 

When his three months' term as a schpol-teacher 
had closed, and he had received his $30, he succeeded, 
after much effort, in securing a place as apprentice 
in the office of the Kennebec Journal, at Augusta, 
Me., which was the leading Whig organ of the State. 

Young Washburne, though working very hard, some- 
times until 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning, when a tri- 
weekly paper was published during sessions of the 
Legislature, had what seemed to him to be a very 
pleasant and rather easy place in the Kennebec 
Journal office, and he was very hopeful of becoming 
most proficient in his trade, when he was stricken by 



210 SELF-MADE MEN. 

an ailment which prevented him permanently from 
standing at the "case." This was a great blow, but 
notwithstanding the disappointment, and finding that 
one career was closed to him, he, with his usual 
energy, turned his attention to another. He decided 
to study law, and in the spring of 1836 bade farewell to 
Augusta and the Kennebec Journal, going with what 
little money he had scraped together to the Kent's 
Hill Seminary, where he intended to study as long as 
his funds would hold out. 

In the winter of 1836-31, he studied Latin and 
French, read continuously, attended lyceum lectures, 
and progressed rapidly. He entered the law office of 
the Hon. John Otis, a distinguished lawyer, and mem- 
ber of Congress, who lived in the aristocratic town of 
Hallowell, Me., and in time Mr. Otis was so much 
struck by his diligence, fidelity, and ambition, that he 
aided him pecuniarily, and took him into his own 
family to board. Afterward, when the young man was 
fitted, Mr. Otis advanced him the money to enter the 
Cambridge Law School. Before this, however, in 
January, 1838, the Whigs having a majority in the 
Legislature, young Washburne, urged by his friends, 
tried to procure the position of Assistant Clerk to the 
House, which paid $2 z. day, and would literally have 
been a god-send to him. He was defeated in this 



ELIHU B. WASHBURNE. 211 

aspiration, but afterward was given some writing to do 
by the Secretary of State — who subsequently became 
his colleague in Congress. In March, 1839, he entered 
the Cambridge Law School, which was then most 
popular, having for its professors Mr. Justice Story 
and Simon Greenleaf, two of the most distinguished 
jurists the country has ever produced. Many of those 
who studied with Mr. Washburne have since become 
noted men in the nation. 

For more than a year the young man pursued his 
studies at Cambridge, and then, having passed a 
critical examination, and having been admitted to the 
Bar, he determined to cut loose from his old asso- 
ciations, seek a home in the far West, and make for 
himself a competence. Gathering together what money 
he could, and, equipped by a careful mother with a 
few articles of clothing, he set out on his journey for 
the " West," but with no definite idea of what point 
he would ultimately select for settlement. 

On his way to the West he passed through Washing- 
ton, and then, for the first time, being thrown into the 
society of many distinguished men, he was naturally 
much impressed. Years afterward, writing of that first 
visit, he says: "The Senate of the United States was 
then in the very zenith of its power. Looking to the 
great men who were then members of it, we may well 



212 SELF-MADE MEN. 

say ' there were giants in those days.' Clay, Webster, 
Calhoun, Benton, Preston, Buchanan, McDuffie, Silas 
Wright, are the names of some of the Senators which 
occur to me after the lapse of nearly thirty-five years. 
I can distinctly call to mind the personal appearance 
of every one of those men." 

Pleasant as was this visit to Washington, however, 
young Washburne was unable to prolong it. He w T as 
soon reminded, by the rapid decrease in his small 
hoard of money, that.it would be necessary for him to 
push on, and leaving Washington, he, by slow stages, 
over rough roads, and making long trips on river 
steamboats, at last, in the spring of 1840, landed at 
Galena, in Illinois, the State in which he was after- 
wards to become famous. 

When Elihu B. Washburne arrived in Galena, as I 
have described, a young man in a strange place v with- 
out friends or money, and with nothing to aid him in 
the world except a sound English education, much 
hard experience, and a high resolve, no man would 
have been foolhardy enough to predict that he would, 
in the time to come, grow with the growth of his new 
home, and, keeping abreast with the progress of the 
Great West, make for himself a name known not only 
in the nation, but throughout much of the civilized 
world. Galena, at the time in question, was a town 



ELIHU B. WASIIBURNE. 213 

of about i, 800 inhabitants, of great business activity, 
and the centre of a large mining country. The Bar 
of the town was one of the most distinguished in 
Illinois, and the young Eastern lawyer, commencing 
the practice of his profession among many keen-witted 
men, found that he must do his best if he would sus- 
tain himself. He arrived at Galena shortly after the 
commencement of the memorable Harrison campaign, 
and, being a strong Whig, he made numerous speeches 
in support of that party. In 1844 he was made a 
delegate to the Whig National Convention, which met 
at Baltimore, and which with unbounded enthusiasm 
nominated to the Presidency that prince of political 
leaders, Henry Clay. Indeed, he was always one of 
Clay's stanchest, most steadfast, and at the same time 
most disinterested admirers. After the Convention 
was over, he went to Washington to see and congratu- 
late Mr. Clay upon his nomination. He had never 
seen him before, and was as much impressed with his 
tall and striking figure as he was by his wondrous 
graciousness and affability of manner. 

During all this time, and while taking so active a 
part in politics, it must not be assumed that Mr. 
Washburne neglected his law business. Such was not 
the case. His practice increased rapidly, and he at- 
tended to it faithfully. He practiced not only in his 



214 SELF-MADE MEN. 

own neighborhood, but also in the Supreme Court at 
Springfield, the State Capital, making the journey to 
that place by stage-coach, the trip occupying often 
four or five days. In 1848, however, be was brought 
forward by his friends as a candidate for the nomina- 
tion for Congress in the Galena district — a district, 
by the way, which at that time extended from Galena 
half way to St. Louis. The nominating convention 
met at Rock Island, and in it Col. Baker carried off 
the nomination. 

Notwithstanding the defeat which he thus encount- 
ered, Mr. Washburne developed such strength in the 
convention as to make him more than ever, a promin- 
ent man in the district. In 1852 he was again dele- 
gate to the National Whig Convention, and strongly 
advocated and aided in the nomination of Gen. Scott 
as against the pro-slavery influences of the conven- 
tion. Because of this, when the Galena district was 
reapportioned in two years after, he was again prom- 
inently mentioned in connection with the Congres- 
sional nomination, and was nominated. Washburne 
canvassed the district with untiring zeal, and, greatly 
to the surprise of his opponents and the people of the 
State, he was elected by a majority of 286 votes. 

Going to Congress, and representing as he did, what 
was believed to have been an overwhelmingly Demo- 



ELIHU B. WASHBURNE. 215 

cratic district, Mr. Washburne was careful to feel well 
his ground before attempting to make any display. 
He did not believe, as do many of the young mem- 
bers of to-day, that it was his duty, before he had 
well warmed his seat, to make half a dozen speeches, 
which had been prepared in advance, before a look- 
ing-glass in a private room. He watched carefully 
what was being done by those around him, and, know- 
ing well the French proverb, may have believed that 
" everything is possible to the man who waits." So 
successful was he in the first Congress to which he was 
elected, and so admirably did he represent not only a 
party, but all the people of his district, that in 1854, 
when it again became necessary to elect a Congress- 
man, he was elected by a majority of over 5,000. In 
the next Congress, the first regular session of which 
commenced in 1855, he was made chairman of the 
Committee on Commerce. In that position he dis- 
tinguished himself by a fidelity to business, and a 
broad comprehension of the duties of his office. Two 
years later he was re-elected to Congress for the third 
successive term. During the session of that Congress 
there occurred the fight on the floor of the House 
between Galusha A. Grow, of Pennsylvania, and the 
South Carolina " fire-eater," Lawrence M. Keitt. Keitt, 
of South Carolina, struck Grow, of Pennsylvania, 



216 SELF-MADE MEN. 

as he was walking through the aisle of the House 
of Representatives. Both represented great States. 
The South Carolinian looked for an easy conquest. 
The South Carolinian was mistaken. Grow returned 
the blow. For a moment there was consternation in 
the House. Then other Southerners, true to their 
traditions, rushed to the aid of their champion. But 
Mr. Grow, to the surprise of the Southerners, was not 
left unprotected. Many Northern men, with strong 
Anglo-Saxon arms, rushed to his support. Foremost 
among them was Elihu B. Washburne, who, with sturdy 
strokes of a fist developed by hard toil upon a New 
England farm, struck right and left in the just cause, 
and did much to demonstrate upon proud Southern 
cheeks that Yankee mud-sills would fight. 

This little episode did Mr. Washburne no harm. 
When the election again came around he was again 
chosen from the Galena district, by an increased 
majority. In i860 he was re-elected for the fifth suc- 
cessive time by a majority of 13,511 — the largest 
majority given to any man in that Congress, and one 
of the largest given to any man who ever sat in the 
United States House of Representatives. 

In the next Congress, and in those which followed 
it — for Mr. Washburne was triumphantly re-elected 
term after term — he, as chairman of the Committee on 



ELIHU B. WASHBURNE. 217 

Commerce, and later, as chairman of the Committee 
on Appropriations, took a most prominent part. He 
was one of the first of the men who, with far-sighted 
intelligence, saw that the war was not to be for thirty 
days, but might be for years. He was also regarded 
as the next friend of President Lincoln. Indeed, it 
was his duty, on the part of the House, to go with Mr. 
Seward on the part of the Senate, to receive Abraham 
Lincoln when, after his election for the first time, he 
came to Washington. 

Lincoln was inaugurated, it is true, without blood- 
shed, but soon afterward the war came on, and every- 
thing was very far from being " all right " in Washing- 
ton. During all the terrible days which followed, 
during the long and weary years of rebellion which 
were precipitated on the country by the slave-holding 
power, Elihu B. Washburne was a foremost figure in 
the council-chamber of the nation. He was again and 
again re-elected to Congress, till at last, by reason of 
the length of his continuous service, he became the 
" Father of the House." In that capacity he swore in 
Schuyler Colfax as Speaker on three different occa- 
sions, and swore in Mr. Speaker Blaine once. In the 
passage of all the great war legislation of the time he 
took an active part. He was always in his place 
fighting " steals " of every kind with a persistency 



218 SELF-MADE MEN. 

which was almost heroic, and by his determined 
opposition to jobs of all kinds, earned the name of the 
" Watch-dog of the Treasury." 

Gen. Grant, being one of Mr. Washburne's constitu- 
ents, owed much of his rank in the army to his influ- 
ence. Indeed, every promotion which he received 
was given either solely or in part, upon the recom- 
mendation of Mr. Washburne. The manner in which 
he (Grant) became senior Brigadier-General of Illi- 
nois Volunteers is now for the first time narrated. 
When the State in question had raised thirty- 
six regiments of troops, and was entitled to nine 
Brigadier-Generals, President Lincoln sent to each of 
the Illinois ^delegation, Senators and Congressmen, a 
personal note asking them to recommend nine men to 
fill the vacant positions. The delegation was called 
to meet in Judge TrumbalFs room, and, after some dis- 
cussion as to the manner in which the selections 
should be made, it was decided that the districts 
should be called in their numerical order, that each 
Congressman should name his candidate, and that his 
associates should then vote for or against him. The 
Galena district was the first one called, and, in re- 
sponse, Mr. Washburne suggested Colonel Grant, of 
Galena. The Colonel was not unknown to the other 
members of the delegation, and for this reason, as 



ELIHU B. WASHBURNE. 219 

much as a desire to gratify Mr. Washburne, every 
member of the delegation voted for him, and he was 
in this way unanimously recommended as the first 
choice of the State for one of the nine positions which 
the President desired to fill. By virtue of thus appear- 
ing at the head of the Brigadier-Generals, as it after- 
ward turned out, Grant took senior rank, and when it 
became necessary to make Major-Generals by pro- 
motion, for the simple reason that his name was at the 
head of the list as described, he was the first to re- 
ceive the higher rank. Later on Mr. Washburne was 
instrumental in framing and passing the bill which 
made U. S. Grant a Lieutenant-General and, subse- 
quently, General of the Armies of the United States. 
The first postal-telegraph bill ever introduced in the 
House was introduced by Mr. Washburne, and the bill 
providing for the establishment of national cemeteries 
(which became a law) was also introduced by him. 

There is reason to believe that Gen. Grant was 
always very grateful to Mr. Washburne for the good 
service which he did him when he was a compara- 
tively obscure citizen, and afterward when he had 
made a name. At all events, in 1869, when he had 
been elected President, one of his first acts was to ap- 
point Congressman Washburne to the first place in his 
Cabinet. The appointment was made in a manner 



220 SELF-MADE MEN. 

exceedingly characteristic of Gen. Grant. It is a fact 
beyond dispute that, as in the case of Don Cameron, 
Mr. Washburne was entirely ignoraat of the Presi- 
dent's intention to make him one of his Secretaries. 
The great Illinois Congressman, immediately after the 
President's inauguration, was sitting in his room in the 
Capitol — the room of the Committee on Appropria- 
tions, which he took possession of after the death of 
Thad. Stevens — and was discussing with Horace 
Greeley and two or three other gentlemen the prob- 
able action of President Grant in regard to his Cabi 
net. Even while they were talking, a page-boy came 
in from the Senate Chamber, saying: 

" Mr. Washburne, here are a number of important 
Executive appointments." 

Mr. Washburne took the paper which the lad handed 
him, and, greatly to his surprise, read at the top of the 
list: 

" To be Secretary of State, Elihu B. Washburne, of 
Illinois." 

Turning to Mr. Greeley and the other gentlemen 
who were present, he said : 

"The question is at last settled, gentlemen, and, 
strangely enough, to be Secretary of State, President 
Grant has named myself." 

It is worthy of repetition that Mr. Washburne was 



EL1HU B. WASHBURNE. 221 

in this way for the first time informed of his appoint- 
ment. He had absolutely no previous information of 
President Grant's intention toward himself. 

To enter the Cabinet, he reluctantly resigned his 
seat in Congress, and bade farewell to a constituency 
which for nearly twenty years had honored themselves 
by honoring him. I say that he resigned reluctantly. 
He did so not only because he was sorry to discon- 
tinue his Congressional services under the old pleasant 
auspices, but because his health would not permit him 
to perform the duties of the new position to which he 
had been called. Such proved to be the case. After 
a short term of service and consultation with eminent 
physicians, he was fully assured that the duties of the 
State Department were more than he could hope to 
fulfill with safety to himself, and he resigned. 

Subsequently President Grant tendered Mr. Wash- 
burne the position of Minister to France, which he 
accepted. 

When Mr. Washburne resigned his position as Sec- 
retary of State, and, because of ill-health and a desire 
for rest, took upon himself the duties of the Minister- 
ship to France, he reckoned very much without his 
host. Indeed, he had only been a few months abroad 
when he discovered that his new post was destined to 
prove a most laborious, if not a very dangerous one. 



222 SELF-MADE MEN. 

By his logical and forcible appeals, Mr. Washburne 
succeeded, practically upon his own terms, in effecting 
the release from confinement within the French limits, 
of nearly all the German subjects who desired to return 
to their own country. Writing to the American Sec- 
retary of State under date of Sept. 2, 1870, he thus 
modestly tells of the remarkable success he had in the 
direction indicated: " The greater part of the German 
population has left Paris. This Legation has vised 
passports and given safe conducts for very nearlj 
30,000 persons, subjects of the North German Con 
federation, expelled from France. We have giveu 
railroad tickets to the Prussian frontier for 8,000 of 
these people, as well as small amounts of money to a 
much smaller number. From this statement you will 
form somewhat of an estimate of the amount of labor 
we have performed for the past few weeks. * * * 
My time is now a good deal taken up in looking after 
Germans who have been arrested and thrown into 
prison. The number is very great, but my applica- 
tions are promptly attended to, and thus far every man 
has been released for whom I have applied." 

During all these terrible days of the bloody siege of 
Paris, and reign of the Commune, Elihu B. Washburne 
stood manfully at his post. The representatives of 
iiearly every other foreign nation fled in dismay, fear* 



ELIHU B. WASHBURNE. 22S 

ing for their lives. The American Minister remained. 
Shells exploded within a few yards of his office, fires 
raged, great walls, pillars, and ancient monuments 
tottered and fell all about him, but still he would not 
forsake the trust which his Government had given into 
his keeping. From the windows of his apartments he 
saw all Paris in flames; he saw the streets of the great 
capital literally running with blood; he saw men shot 
down; he was saluted day and night by the hoarse yells 
of drunken madmen, and by the groans of the dying; 
but through every horror he still remained at his post. 

For his heroic services during the siege of Paris and 
the terrible reign of the Commune, Minister Wash- 
burne received the sincere thanks of thousands of 
individuals whom he had aided, and of several nations 
and high public officers. The German Government, 
to subjects of which he was of untold benefit, was 
particularly warm in expressions of gratitude. 

Mr. Washburne was practically the Prussian Minis- 
ter at Paris for nearly a year; was guardian of the 
archives of the German Embassy, and was charged 
with the protection of all Germans and German inter- 
ests in France during all that time. 

A very considerable event in the earlier days of the 
siege, was the sudden appearance in Paris of Gen. 
Burnside, now United States Senator for Rhode Island, 



224 SELF-MADE MEN. 

and Paul Forbes. In one of his letters to Mr. Wash- 
burne, Bismarck was inclined to claim some credit for 
his liberality in allowing these two distinguished 
gentlemen to enter Paris, but states that " This liberal- 
ity of ours has been rewarded by those excellent 
cigars you have been kind enough to send me." 

Some time after the close of the war the Emperor 
Wilhelm conferred upon Mr. Washburne the Order of 
the Red Eagle, one of the highest within his gift, and 
accompanied it by a jeweled star of great value and 
exquisite workmanship. This, because of a constitu- 
tional provision which prohibits United States Minis- 
ters from accepting foreign orders, Mr. Washburne was 
compelled to decline. Still, desiring to show to him 
some mark of appreciation, the Emperor, on the eve 
of his departure for America, sent him his portrait, 
accompanied by a highly eulogistic letter. 

After serving the United States in Paris for nearly 
nine years, Mr. Washburne, at the commencement of 
President Hayes* term of service, asked to be recalled. 
Returning to this country, he made his home in ( 
Chicago, and is now living in this city the quiet life of 
a private citizen. Still enjoying the full strength and 
health of robust manhood, he passes most of his time 
in literary pursuits. In his lofty and commodious 
library, surrounded by many rare engravings, books, 



ELIHU B. WASHBURNE. 



225 



and manuscripts in various languages, he is at all times 
easily accessible to those who desire to see him. His 
long residence at foreign courts, among princes and 
grandees, has in no way changed him. He is, as he 
always has been, a courteous, straightforward, plain- 
spoken American gentleman. He is a representative 
American citizen who has won success by working for 
it. He is a living example of what greatness, under 
our liberal institutions, can be achieved even by those 
of the humblest origin. He has been highly honored 
by his country, and it can with all truth be said that 
he has deserved every honor he has received. 




DWIGHT LYMAN MOODY. 



tNQUESTIONABLY the foremost among the 
evangelists of modern times is Dwight Lyman 
Moody. Born on the 5th day of February, 
1837, at Northfield, Mass., his parents occupying a 
humble position in life, he received a very limited 
education, but his religious training, guided by the 
wise counsels and fervent prayers of a loving, Christian 
mother, was such as to mold a nature which, in the 
large Christianity of its general tone, has brought 
comfort and heavenly peace to the hearts of tens of 
thousands, lowly and high born, who have listened to 
the simple, earnest, and unaffected exposition of the 
teachings of the Saviour of the world. 

Mr. Moody left the place of his birth at an early 
age, and went to Boston. Thrown upon the world, he 
soon developed that self-reliant spirit and fertility of 
resource which has since characterized his career, and 



D WIGHT LYMAN MOODY. 229 

distinguished hira above all others as a reformer and 
missionary leader. Although he was a constant 
attendant at the Northfield Unitarian Church, upon 
his arrival in Boston he does not appear to have had 
any decided religious opinion or predilection for any 
particular sect or creed, because in that city he joined 
the Congregational Church, and identified himself with 
the Sabbath school of that body. Here it was that he, 
aided by a faithful teacher, was led to that condition 
of Christian hope, to give which to his fellow crea- 
tures he has labored so earnestly and diligently 
throughout the English-speaking world. 

After a brief residence in Boston, a desire to better 
his condition in life induced him to come to Chicago, 
where he arrived about the latter part of 1855. His 
career here is well-known — how, by painstaking, metho- 
dical devotion to business, the sweet spirit of true 
Christianity permeating all his actions, he gained the 
confidence of his employes and the esteem of his 
fellows; and how, although scrupulous in his attention 
to business duties, he found time and opportunity to 
enter into religious work with that spirit of glorious 
enthusiasm which seems to illustrate his whole soul, 
and which very soon made him conspicuous in every 
important religious work in Chicago. An active mem- 
ber of the Young Men's Christian Association, he 



230 SELF-MADE MEN, 

sought, and fruitfully, by untried means to bring the 
souls of men and women nearer to Christ, and it is 
well known that to his diligence and indefatigable 
efforts in the missionary field, the position which that 
institution holds to-day as a useful organization, is in 
no small degree to be attributed. So well did he 
acquit himself in the work of the society, and so deep 
an impression did he make in the good opinion of its 
members, that they finally elected him president. 

In August, 1862, Mr. Moody was married to Miss 
Emma C. Revell, of Chicago, a lady well qualified by 
her tastes and talents to aid him in his work. The 
union is said to be a happy one, and his home is 
cheerful, joyous, and eminently Christian in its char- 
acter. 

But Mr. Moody's labors have been subject to seri- 
ous interruptions and embarrassments. The great fire, 
which desolated the city, swept away his own happy 
home, and left the people he had collected around 
him without a church in which to worship, and de- 
prived the children whom he loved so tenderly of the 
Sabbath school privileges they had learned to prize so 
highly. Confusion, distrust and destitution prevailed 
on every side. Many would have abandoned the work, 
but he seemed only the more resolved to prosecute it. 
Farwell Hall yielded to the flames, and Mr. Moody 



DWIGHT LYMAN MOODY. 231 

and his friends, instead of being cast down at the 
sight of its ashes, went energetically to work and 
reared upon its ruins a still more magnificent struc- 
ture. 

The most distinctive trait of this extraordinary 
man's character is his entire concentration to the work 
of his life. His implicit reliance upon his God 
smacks of the old days when Christ commanded the 
humble fishermen to put their trust entirely in Him, 
and take up the cross and preach the Gospel. This 
Mr. Moody has literally done. With a heroism that 
grace alone could inspire, he abandoned his secular 
calling, with all its promise of gain, and affirmed that 
he would devote his life to God. Remonstrances and 
entreaties from friends to abandon his plan were of no 
avail. He merely answered, " God will provide." 

His idea was seconded by Mr. Ira D. Sankey, whose 
charming singing and rendition of the simple Chris- 
tian songs have captivated the attention and filled with 
overwhelming emotion the souls of thousands. These 
two men, after laboring together in Chicago for about 
two years, receiving no stated salary, but merely rely- 
ing upon Providence for the supply of their wants, 
accepted invitations to visit Europe as evangelists. 

They landed at Liverpool on the 17th of June, 
1873* where they unfurled the banner of the cross, and 



232 SELF-MADE MEN. 

the whole world is familiar with their remarkable suc- 
cess. In London, Birmingham, Manchester, Liver- 
pool, Glasgow, and Edinburgh, and, in fact, all over 
Great Britain and Ireland, his great Christianity, his 
renunciation of all priestly authority, his earnest and 
simple assurance to the people that the commonest 
and the highest among them could work out their own 
salvation if they would, by simply, lovingly, and duti- 
fully following our Saviour, requiring the mediation of 
no erring man, disarmed prejudice and won the hearts 
of the multitudes to Jesus. Lords and ladies, cultured 
and refined, professors high in the theology of all 
times, and laborers in the hundreds of highways and 
byways of life, all crowded eagerly to hear the old, 
old story told in a plain, unvarnished way. 

They remained abroad nearly two years. Return- 
ing to America, after a brief period of repose, they 
began work again in Northfield, Mass., on the 9th day 
of September, 1875. Their wonderful work in Britain 
had prepared the way for their success at home, and 
wherever they went immense audiences greeted them 
with welcome and delight. 

The first great meeting in this country took place at 
the Brooklyn rink on Sunday, the 24th of October, 
1875. An audience of some 10,000 gathered within 
the building and over 20,000 assembled outside, unable 



DWIGHT LYMAN MOODY. 233 

to obtain admission. From the very first the interest 
was intense, and at every meeting thousands failed to 
obtain admission, so great was the desire of the people 
to attend the services. So it was with the Philadel- 
phia meetings, which began on the 21st of November, 
and his work in the city of New York, beginning on 
the 7th of February, 1876, obtained the same results. 

The religious work of these two men, both in the 
Eastern States and Europe, has been incalculable in 
its beneficial results. Bibles long closed have been 
reverently opened, and to-day their sacred truths 
gleam upon many minds with a new light. The spirit 
of evangelism has been quickened and developed in 
new and efficient ways. 

In Chicago an immense tabernacle was built, capa- 
ble of accommodating over 7,000 people, and this 
capacious building was daily filled to overflowing. As 
a result of these meetings, several hundred members 
were added to various churches in the city 

And all the foregoing wonderful revivals were 
accomplished by a plain, uneducated, but earnest and 
faithful worker in the Lord's vineyard. 

If you feel that you would like to travel in the same 
road, then study closely Mr. Moody's life, and look 
around you and see if there are not similar opportu- 
nities for doing good. But if you feel that you would 



234 SELF-MADE MEN. 

much rather be a business man, then remember that 
the place you really wish for is the place you will do 
the most good in; for no one having a distaste for his 
employment will ever attain to the highest degree of 
success in it. 

We append a sketch of "The School on the 
Sands," where Mr. Moody gained the training which 
has helped him so well during his bur,y life. 



THE SCHOOL ON THE " SANDS " IN CHICAGO. 

It is nearly twenty years since Mr. Moody started 
the Mission Sunday-school in Chicago that was to be 
to him in turn a training school for his great work as 
an evangelist. He was then a salesman in a whole- 
sale boot and shoe house. On week days his steam- 
engine energy found full play in the effort to sell more 
goods than any other man in the establishment. On 
Sundays he worked just as hard. He rented four 
pews in Plymouth church, of which he was a member, 
and in the morning he raked boarding-houses, saloons 
and street corners for young men to fill them. In the 
afternoon he plunged into Sunday-school work. Re- 
cruiting was his forte. It is said that he helped build 
up, in turn, over a dozen different schools, as he found 
one after another that seemed to need his help. He 



DWIGHT LYMAN MOODY. 235 

stepped over denominational lines as easily in those 
days as now. It mattered little to him whether a 
school was under Methodist, Congregational, or Pres- 
byterian management, if so be he got the gamins of 
the street under Sunday school influences. 

His one trouble in this work was that the youngsters 
who needed Sunday-school instruction the most could 
not be persuaded to come to the ordinary school — or 
could not be kept there if once they were coaxed in. 
They were too untamed — too ill at ease among well- 
dressed and well-behaved children. So, more to catch 
the fish that slipped through the nets of the other 
schools than for any other reason, he decided to start 
a school of his own on the Sands. This was the name 
of a poverty-stricken, whisky-ridden, crime-steeped 
locality on the north side — the Five Points of Chicago. 

Hiring an unfurnished room that had been last used 
for a saloon, he started out to drum up scholars to fill 
it. At first the young Arabs fought shy. Then he 
filled his pockets with maple sugar, and judiciously 
distributing it among those who promised to come, 
the room soon overflowed, and he was obliged to look 
up larger quarters. These were found in a hall over 
the North Market, from which the school took the 
name by which it was known for several years. To 
give an idea of the neighborhood in which the school 



236 SELF-MADE MEN. 

was planted, it is said that Moody, speaking from the 
steps of the hall entrance could make his voice heard 
in the doors of 200 saloons. Here he and his helpers 
gathered a school that within a year had an average 
attendance of 650 scholars, and soon ran up to 1,000. 
There was probably never another school just like 
it. At first there were no seats even in the room, and 
for some time none of the " Sunday-school requisites " 
of the advertisements—no blackboard, no library, no 
maps, no banners. But it was a live school; so thor- 
oughly wide-awake that at first the teachers considered 
it a satisfactory day's work when they had been able 
to do a little singing and keep the turbulent member- 
ship sufficiently quiet to hear a little talking. It was 
a cardinal doctrine that the worse a boy was the more 
necessity there was of keeping him in the school. 
Such a confession of failure as the expulsion of a 
scholar was not to be thought of. Great was the 
ingenuity and patience required to manage some of 
the hard cases. There is a story of one young rough 
who seemed to defy all the efforts to tame him. There 
was danger that his riotous behavior would break up 
the school. Having meditated and prayed over the 
matter all the week, Moody came to school one Sun- 
day persuaded that there was but one remedy that 
would reach his case, and that was a good thrashing. 



DWIGHT LYMAN MOODY. 237 

Coming up behind the young rowdy he clasped his 
arms around him, lifted him from his feet and shoved 
him through the open door of a little ante-room. 
Locking the door he proceeded to business. The 
culprit was well endowed with muscle. But so was 
Moody. The excitement in the school-room was 
drawn off by singing until the two re-appeared, after a 
somewhat prolonged and noisy " interview " in the 
ante-room. Both were evidently well warmed up, but 
the result w r as manifest in the chastened bearing of 
the offender. " It was hard work," remarked Moody, 
"but I guess we have saved him." And they had! 
More than that, this exhibition of muscular Christian- 
ity was a new claim on the admiration of the school, 
and Moody's will was law among them thereafter. He 
%had demonstrated his ability to keep order, and forth- 
with found many helpers. One day an old scholar 
coming up the aisle espied a raw recruit with his cap 
on. Snatching it off, he hit the offender a blow that 
sent him at full length upon the floor. " I'll learn you 
better than to wear your cap on in this school," was 
the sententious explanation as he passed on to his 
own seat with the air of one who was ready to do his 
duty. 

It was not easy to find suitable teachers for the hard- 
bitted classes which made up such a school. And 



238 SELF-MADE MEN. 

there, as in other schools, it was not always easy to 
get rid of unsuitable teachers. But a plan was hit 
upon that worked to a charm. No teacher could do 
such children good unless he could interest them. So 
a rule was made, giving a scholar the privilege, under 
certain limitations, of leaving his class when he chose 
and going into another one. The result was that the 
superintendent was relieved from the unpleasant task 
of taking a dull teacher's class away from him. For 
the class, one by one, quickly took itself away. And 
thus there came about a " survival of fittest " teachers 
that would have delighted Darwin himself. 

Moody put a vast amount of work into the school. 
His evenings and Sundays were spent in skirmishing 
about the Sands, looking after old scholars and look- 
ing up new ones. He never believed that there was 
anything that any sinner needed so much as he needed 
the Gospel. But along with the Gospel he carried a 
great deal of relief for the sick, the unemployed and 
the unfortunate. He was the almoner not only of his 
own charity, but of the gifts of many friends who 
became interested in his work. His old employer 
says that he has seen as many as twenty children come 
into the store at once to be fitted out with new shoes 
gratuitously. 

When he finally gave up business altogether, that 



DWIGHT LYMAN MOODY. 239 

he might devote all his time to missionary labor, he 
bought a pony to facilitate his work. Mounting it on 
Sunday he would go skirmishing through the streets 
and alleys on the search for new scholars. Coming 
back at the hour for school, the patient pony would 
sometimes be loaded, from its ears to its haunches, 
with ragged urchins while the later recruits hung on 
by the stirrups or tail! 

Numerous were the conversions, wonderful the 
transformations that were continually occurring among 
these children and youth. One cold day in February, 
a wild lad made his appearance at the school-room 
door. He was clad in a man's overcoat — its rags tied 
together with strings. His legs were wrapped with 
papers, and a big pair of shoes completed his winter 
costume. Mr. Moody caught' sight of him, gave him 
his hand, found him a place in a class, with as cordial 
and kindly attention as he could have shown the most 
welcome visitor. A gentleman who happened to be 
visiting the school that day was moved to tears by the 
wretched plight of the boy. After the exercises were 
over he took him home and gave him a full suit of 
clothes belonging to his own son. The boy, thus be- 
friended, continued coming to the school, was con- 
verted, and is now a Sunday-school superintendent 
himself. — Sunday-school Times* 



GEORGE PEABODY. 



ff^EORGE PEABODY came of an old English 
family, which traced its descent back to the 
year of our Lord 61, the days of the heroic 
Boadicea, down through the brilliant circle of the 
Knights of the Round Table, to Francis Peabody, 
who in 1635 went from St. Albans, in Hertfordshire, to 
the New World, and settled in Danvers, Massachusetts, 
where the subject of this memoir was born one hun- 
dred and sixty years later, on the 18th of February, 
1795. The parents of George Peabody were poor, 
and hard work was the lot to which he was born, a lot 
necessary to develop his sterling qualities of mind and 
heart. He was possessed of a strong, vigorous con- 
stitution, and a quick, penetrating intellect. His edu- 
cation was limited, for he was taken from school at 
the age of eleven, and ^t to earning his living. Upon 
leaving school, he was apprenticed in a " country 




GEORGE PEABODY. 



GEORGE PEABODY. 243 

store " in Danvers. Here he worked hard and faith- 
fully for four or five years. His mind matured more 
rapidly than his body, and he was a man in intellect 
long before he was out of his teens. Having gained 
all the information it was possible to acquire in so 
small an establishment, he began to wish for a wider 
field for the exercise of his abilities. 

Accordingly, he left Mr. Proctor's employment, and 
spent a year with his maternal grandfather at Post 
Mills village, Thetford, Vermont. " George Peabody's 
year at Post Mills," says a writer who knew him, 
" must have been a year of intense quiet, with good 
examples always before him, and good advice when- 
ever occasion called for it; for Mr. Dodge and his wife 
were both too shrewd to bore him with it needlessly. 

" It was on his return from this visit that he spent a 
night at a tavern in Concord, N. H., and paid for his 
entertainment by sawing wood the next morning. 
That, however, must have been a piece of George's 
own voluntary economy, for Jeremiah Dodge would 
never have sent his grandson home to Danvers with- 
out the means of procuring the necessaries of life on 
the way, and still less, if possible, would Mrs. Dodge. 
• " The interest with which Mr. Peabody remembered 
this visit to Post Mills is shown by his second visit so 
late in life, and his gift of a library — as large a 
13 



244 SELF-MADE MEN, 

library as that place needs. Of its influence on his 
subsequent career, of course, there is no record. 
Perhaps it was not much. But, at least, it gave him a 
good chance for quiet thinking, at an age when he 
needed it; and the labors of the farm may have been 
useful both to mind and body." 

At the age of sixteen, in the year 1811, he went to 
Newburyport, and became a clerk in the store of his 
elder brother, David Peabody, who was engaged in the 
dry goods business at that place. He exhibited un- 
usual capacity and promise in his calling, and soon drew 
upon himself the favorable attention of the merchants 
of the place. He was prompt, reliable, and energetic, 
and from the first established an enviable reputation 
for personal and professional integrity. It is said that 
he earned here the first money he ever made outside 
of his business. This was by writing ballots for the 
Federal party in Newburyport. Printed ballots had 
not then come into use. 

He did not stay long in Newburyport, as a great 
fire, which burned up a considerable part of the town, 
destroyed his brother's store, and obliged him to seek 
employment elsewhere. 

"The cause of Mr. George Peabody's interest in 
Newburyport was not alone that he had lived here for 
a brief period, or that his relatives had lived here ; 



GEORGE PEABODY. Uo 

but rather it was the warm friendship that had been 
shown him, which was, in fact, the basis of his subse- 
quent prosperity. He left here in 1811, and returned 
in 1857. The forty-six intervening years had borne to 
the grave most of the persons with whom he had 
formed acquaintance. 

u Mr. Spaulding, an old friend of his youth, had 
rendered him the greatest of services. When Mr. 
Peabody left Newburyport, he was under age, and not 
worth a dollar. Mr. Spaulding gave him letters of 
credit in Boston, through which he obtained two 
thousand dollars' worth of merchandise of Mr. James 
Reed, who was so favorably impressed with his ap- 
pearance, that he subsequently gave him credit for a 
larger amount. This was his start in life, as he after- 
ward acknowledged; for at a public entertainment in 
Boston, when his credit was good for any amount, and 
in any part of the world, Mr. Peabody laid his hand 
on Mr. Reed's shoulder, and said to those present, 
\ My friends, here is my first patron ; and he is the 
man who sold me my first bill of goods.' After he 
was established in Georgetown, D. C, the first con- 
signment made to him was by the late Francis Todd, 
of Newburyport. It was from these facts that New- 
buryport was always pleasant in his memory; and the 
donation he made to the public library was on his own 



24:6 SELF-MADE MEN. 

suggestion, that he desired to do something of a public 
nature for our town." 

From New England, George Peabody turned his 
face southward, and entered the employment of his 
uncle, Mr. John Peabody, who was engaged in the 
dry goods business in Georgetown, in the District of 
Columbia. He reached that place in the spring of 
1812; but, as the second war with England broke out 
about the same time, was not able to give his imme- 
diate attention to business. His uncle was a poor 
man and a bad manager, and for two years the busi- 
ness was conducted by George Peabody, and in his 
own name; but at the end of that time, seeing the 
business threatened with ruin by his uncle's incapacity, 
he resigned his situation, and entered the service of 
Mr. Elisha Riggs, who had just established a wholesale 
dry goods house in Georgetown. Mr. Riggs furnished 
the capital for the concern, and Mr. Peabody was 
given the management of it. Soon after this, the lat- 
ter became a partner in the house. It is said that 
when Mr. Riggs invited Mr. Peabody to become his 
partner, the latter informed him that he could not 
legally assume the responsibilities of the business, as 
he was only nineteen years old. This was no objec- 
tion in the mind of the merchant, as he wanted a 
young and active assistant, and had discerned in his 



GEORGE PEABODY. 247 

boy-manager the qualities which never fail to win 
success. 

The new business in which he was engaged con- 
sisted chiefly in the importation and sale of European 
goods, and consignments of dry goods from the 
northern cities. It extended over a wide field, and 
gave Mr. Peabody a fine opportunity for the display 
of his abilities. He worked with energy and intelli- 
gence, and in 1815 the business was found to be so 
extensive that a removal to Baltimore became neces- 
sary. About this time a sort of irregular banking 
business was added to the operations of the house. 
This was chiefly the suggestion of Mr. Peabody, and 
proved a source of great profit 

Mr. Peabody quickly took a prominent rank among 
the merchants of Baltimore. He was noted for " a 
judgment quick and cautious, clear and sound, a 
decided purpose, a firm will, energetic and persever- 
ing industry, punctuality and fidelity in every engage- 
ment, justice and honor controlling every transaction, 
and courtesy — that true courtesy which springs from 
genuine kindness — presiding over the intercourse of 
life." His business continued to increase, and in 
1822 it became necessary to establish branches in 
Philadelphia and New York, over which Mr. Peabody 
exercised a careful supervision. In 1827 he went to 



248 SELF-MADE MEN. 

England on business for his firm, and during the next 
ten years made frequent voyages between New York 
and London. 

In 1829 Mr. Riggs withdrew from the firm, and Mr. 
Peabody became the actual head of the house, the 
style of the firm, which had previously been " Riggs 
& Peabody," being changed to " Peabody, Riggs & 
Co." 

In 1836 Mr. Peabody determined to extend his 
business, which was already very large, to England, 
and to open a branch house in London. In 1837 he 
removed to that city for the purpose of taking charge 
of his house there, and from that time London became 
his home. 

The summer of this year was marked by one of the 
most terrible commercial crises the United States has 
ever known. " That great sympathetic nerve of the 
commercial world, credit," said Edward Everett, " as 
far as the United States was concerned, was for the 
time paralyzed. At that moment Mr. Peabody not 
only stood firm himself, but was the cause of firmness 
in others. There were not at that time, probably, 
half a dozen other men in Europe who, upon the sub- 
ject of American securities, would have been listened 
to for a moment in the parlor of the Bank of England. 
But his judgment commanded respect; his integrity 



GEORGE PEABODY. 249 

won back the reliance which men had been accus- 
tomed to place in American securities." 

The conduct of Mr. Peabody in this crisis, placed 
him among the foremost merchants of London. He 
carried on his business upon a large scale from his 
base of operations in that city. He bought British 
manufactures in all parts of England and shipped 
them to the United States. His vessels brought back 
in return all kinds of American produce which would 
command a ready sale in England. Profitable as these 
ventures were, there was another branch of his busi- 
ness much more remunerative to him. The merchants 
and manufacturers on both sides of the Atlantic who 
consigned their goods to him frequently procured 
from him advances upon the goods long before they 
were sold. At other times they would leave large 
sums in his hands long after the goods were disposed 
of, knowing that they could draw whenever they 
needed, and that in the meanwhile their money was 
being so profitably invested that they were certain of 
a proper interest for their loans. Thus Mr. Peabody 
gradually became a banker, in which pursuit he was as 
successful as he had been as a merchant. In 1843 ne 
withdrew from the house of Peabody, Riggs & Co., 
and established the house of " George Peabody & 
Company, of Warnford Court, City." 



253 SELF-MADE MEN. 

His dealings were chiefly with America, and in 
American securities, and he was always regarded as 
one of the best specimens of the American merchant 
ever seen in London. In speaking of the manner in 
which he organized his business establishment, he 
once said: "I have endeavored, in the constitution of 
its members and the character of its business, to make 
it an American house, and to give it an American at- 
mosphere; to furnish it with American journals; to 
make it a center of American news, and an agreeable 
place for any American friends visiting London." 

In the year 185 1, when it was thought that there 
would be no representation of the achievements of 
American skill and industry in the Great Exhibition of 
that year, from lack of funds, Mr. Peabody generously 
supplied the sum of fifteen thousand dollars, which 
enabled the Commissioners to make a suitable display 
of the American contributions. 

" He had contributed his full share, if not to the 
splendor, at least to the utilities of the exhibition. In 
fact, the leading journal at London, with a magnanim- 
ity which did it honor, admitted that England had 
derived more real benefit from the contributions of 
the United States than from those of any other 
country." 

As has been said, Mr. Peabody made the bulk of 



GEORGE PEABODY. 251 

his colossal fortune in the banking business. He had 
a firm faith in American securities, and dealt in them 
largely, and with confidence. His course was now 
onward and upward, and each year marked an in- 
crease of his wealth. His business operations were 
conducted in pursuance of a rigid system which was 
never relaxed. To the very close of his life he never 
abandoned the exact or business-like manner in 
which he sought to make money. He gave away 
millions with a generosity never excelled, yet he could 
be exacting to a penny in the fulfillment of a contract. 

In his youth he contracted habits of economy, and 
these he retained to the last. Being unmarried, he 
did not subject himself to the expense of a complete 
domestic establishment, but lived in chambers, and 
entertained his friends at his club or at a coffee-house. 
His habits were simple in every respect, and he was 
often seen making his dinner on a mutton-chop at a 
table laden (at his cost) with the most sumptuous and 
tempting viands. His personal expenses for ten years 
did not average three thousand dollars per annum. 

In his dress Mr. Peabody was simple and unosten- 
tatious. He was scrupulously neat and tasteful, but 
there was nothing about him to indicate his vast 
wealth. He seldom wore any jewelry, using merely a 
black band for his watch-guard. Display of all kinds 



252 SELF-MADE MEN. 

he abominated. He made several visits to his native 
country during his last residence in London, and com- 
memorated each one of them by acts of princely 
munificence. He gave large sums to the cause of 
education, and to religious and charitable objects, and 
made each one of his near kindred wealthy. None of 
his relatives received less than one hundred thousand 
dollars, and some were given as much as three times 
that sum. He gave immense sums to the poor of 
London, and became their benefactor to such an 
extent that Queen Victoria sent him her portrait, 
which she had caused to be executed for him at a cost 
of over forty thousand dollars, in token of her appre- 
ciation of his services in behalf of the poor of her 
realm. 

Mr. Peabody made another visit to the United 
States in 1866, and upon this occasion added large 
sums to many of the donations he had already made 
in this country. He remained here until May, 1867, 
when he returned to England. He came back in 
June, 1869, but soon sailed again for England. His 
health had become very feeble, and it was his belief 
that it would be better in the atmosphere of London, 
to which he had been so long accustomed. His hope 
of recovery was vain. He failed to rally upon reach- 
ing London, and died in that city on the 4th of 



GEORGE PEABODY. 253 

November, 1869. The news of his death created a 
profound sadness on both sides of the Atlantic, for 
his native and his adopted country alike revered him 
as a benefactor. The Queen caused his body to be 
placed in a vault in Westminster Abbey, amidst the 
greatest and noblest of her kingdom, until all was in 
readiness for its transportation to the United States in 
a royal man-of-war. The Congress of the United 
States authorized the President to make such arrange- 
ments for the reception of the body as he should deem 
necessary. Sovereigns, statesmen, and warriors uni- 
ted to do homage to the mortal remains of this plain, 
simple man, who, beginning life a poor boy, and never 
departing from the character of an unassuming 
citizen, had made humanity his debtor by his generos- 
ity and goodness. He was borne across the ocean 
with kingly honors, two great nations acting as chief 
mourners, and then, when the pomp and the splendor 
of the occasion were ended, they laid him down in his 
native earth by the side of the mother from whom he 
had imbibed those principles of integrity and good- 
ness which were the foundation of his fame and 
fortune. 

It is impossible to obtain an accurate statement of 
the donations made by Mr. Peabody to the objects 
which enlisted his sympathy. He divided among his 



254 SELF-MADE MEN. 

relatives the sum of about three millions of dollars, 
giving them a portion during his last visit to this 
country, and leaving them the remainder at his death. 
He donated the immense sum of $8,470,000 to various 
educational and other worthy objects, over $3,000,000 
of which went to the poor of London, England. 

The life of such a man affords lessons full of hope 
and encouragement to others. In 1856, when on a 
visit to Danvers, now named Peabody, in honor of 
him, its most distinguished son and greatest benefac- 
tor, he said: 

" Though Providence has granted me an unvaried 
and unusual success in the pursuit of fortune in other 
lands, I am still in heart the humble boy who left 
yonder unpretending dwelling. There is not a youth 
within the sound of my voice whose early opportu- 
nities and advantages are not very much greater than 
were my own, and I have since achieved nothing that 
is impossible to the most humble boy among you." 





CORNELIUS VANDERBILT. 



CORNELIUS VANDERB!LT. 




"EVENTY-SIX years ago, Staten Island was a 
mere country settlement, and its communica- 
tions with the city were maintained by means 
of a few sail-boats, which made one trip each way 
per day. 

One of these boats was owned and navigated by 
Cornelius Vanderbilt, a thriving farmer, who owned a 
small but well cultivated estate on Staten Island, near 
the present Quarantine Grounds. He was a man of 
exemplary character and great industry. Having a 
considerable amount of produce to sell in the city, he 
purchased a boat of his own for the purpose of trans- 
porting it thither. Frequently, residents of the island 
would secure passage in this boat to the city in the 
morning, and return with it in the evening. He 
realized a considerable sum of money in this way, and 
finally ran his boat regularly between the island and 



258 SELF-MADE MEN. 

the city. This was the beginning of the New York 
and Staten Island Ferry. His wife was a woman of 
more than usual character, and aided him nobly in 
making his way in the world. 

This admirable couple were blessed with nine chil- 
dren. The oldest of these, Cornelius, the subject of 
this sketch, was born at the old farm-house on Staten 
Island, on the 27th of May, 1794. He was a healthy, 
active boy, fond of all manner of out-door sports, and 
manifesting an unusual repugnance to the confinement 
and labors of the school-room. He has since declared 
that the only books he remembers using at school 
were the New Testament and the spelling-book. The 
result was, that he merely learned to read, write, and 
cipher, and that imperfectly. He was passionately 
fond of the water, and was never so well pleased as 
when his father allowed him to assist in sailing his 
boat. When he set himself to accomplish any thing, 
he was not, like most boys, deterred by the difficulties 
of his undertaking, but persevered until success 
crowned his efforts. So early did he establish his 
reputation for overcoming obstacles, that his boyish 
friends learned to regard any task which he undertook 
as already virtually performed. 

Young Vanderbilt was always anxious to become a 
sailor, and, as he approached his seventeenth year, he 



CORNELIUS VANDERBILT. 259 

determined to begin life as a boatman in the harbor 
of New York. On the ist of May, 1810, he informed 
his mother of his determination, and asked her to 
lend him one hundred dollars to buy a boat. The 
good lady had always opposed her son's wish to go to 
sea, and regarded this new scheme as equally hair- 
brained. As a means of discouraging him, she told 
him if he would plow, harrow, and plant with corn a 
certain ten-acre lot belonging to the farm, by the 
twenty-seventh of that month, on which day he would 
be seventeen years old, she would lend him the money. 
The field was the worst in the whole farm; it was 
rough, hard, and stony; but by the appointed time the 
work was done, and well done, and the boy claimed 
and received his money. He hurried off to a neigh- 
boring village, and bought his boat, in which he set 
out for home. He had not gone far, however, when 
the boat struck a sunken wreck, and filled so rapidly 
that the boy had barely time to get into shoal water 
before it sank. 

" Undismayed at this mishap," says Mr. Parton, 
from whose graphic memoir the leading incidents of 
this sketch are taken, " he began his new career. His 
success, as we have intimated, was speedy and great. 
He made a thousand dollars during each of the next 
three summers. Often he worked all night; but he was 



260 SELF-MADE MEN. 

never absent from his post by day, and he soon had 
the cream of the boating business of the port. 

" At that day parents claimed the services and earn- 
ings of their children till they were twenty-one. In 
other words, families made common cause against the 
common enemy, Want. The arrangement between this 
young boatman and his parents was, that he should 
give them all his day earnings and half his night earn- 
ings. He fulfilled his engagement faithfully until his 
parents released him from it, and with his own half of 
his earnings by night, he bought all his clothes. 

" He soon became the best boatman in the port. 
He had no vices. In those three years of willing 
servitude to his parents, Cornelius Vanderbilt added 
to the family's common stock of wealth, and gained 
for himself three things— a perfect knowledge of his 
business, habits of industry and self-control, and the 
best boat in the harbor." 

During the war of 1812, young Vanderbilt was kept 
very busy. The travel between the harbor defenses 
and the city was very great, and boatmen were in 
demand. 

In 18 13 he determined to marry. He had wooed 
and won the heart of Sophia Johnson, the daughter of 
a neighbor, and he now asked his parents' consent to 
his marriage, and in the winter of 18 13 he was married. 



CORNELIUS VANDERBILT. 261 

His wife was a woman of unusual personal beauty ana 
strength of character, and proved the best of partners. 
He has often declared since that he owed his success 
in life as much to her counsel and assistance as to his 
own efforts. 

In the spring of 1814, when it was expected that 
New York would be attacked by a formidable British 
military and naval expedition, he was awarded the 
contract for conveying provisions from New York to 
the various military posts in the vicinity. This con- 
tract exempted him from military duty. 

There were six posts to be supplied — Harlem, Hell 
Gate, Ward's Island, the Narrows, and one other in 
the harbor, each of which was to be furnished with 
one load per week. The young contractor performed 
all the duties of his contract at night, which left him 
free to attend to his boating during the day. He never 
failed to make a single delivery of stores, or to be 
absent from his post on the beach at Whitehall one 
single day during the whole three months. He was 
often without sleep, and performed an immense 
amount of labor during this period. 

He made a great deal of money that summer, and 
with his earnings built a splendid little schooner, 
which he named the "Dread." In 1815, in connec- 
tion with his brother-in-law, Captain De Forrest, he 
14 



262 SELF-MADE MEN. 

built a fine schooner, called the " Charlotte," for the 
coasting service. She was celebrated for the beauty 
of her model and her great speed. During the three 
years succeeding the termination of the war he saved 
nine thousand dollars in cash, and built two or three 
small vessels. This was his condition in 1818. 

In 1818, to the surprise and dismay of his friends, 
he gave up his flourishing business, in order to accept 
the captaincy of a steamboat which was offered him 
by Mr. Thomas Gibbons. The salary attached to this 
position was one thousand dollars. He was given 
command of a steamboat plying between New York 
and New Brunswick. 

Passengers to Philadelphia, at that day, were trans- 
ported by steamer from New York to New Bruns- 
wick, where they remained all night. The next morn- 
ing they took the stage for Trenton, from which they 
were conveyed by steamer to Philadelphia. The 
hotel at New Brunswick was a miserable affair. When 
Captain Vanderbilt took command of the steamer, he 
was offered the hotel rent free, and accepted the offer. 
He placed the house in charge of his wife, under 
whose vigorous administration it soon acquired a great 
popularity. 

For seven years he was harassed and hampered by 
the hostility of the State of New York, which had 



CORNELIUS VANDERBILT. 263 

granted to Fulton and Livingston the sole right to 
navigate New York waters by steam. Thomas Gib- 
bons believed this law to be unconstitutional, and ran 
his boats in defiance of it. The authorities of the 
State resented his disregard of their monopoly, and a 
long and vexatious warfare sprang up between them, 
which was ended only in 1824, by the decision of the 
Supreme Court of the United States in favor of Mr. 
Gibbons. 

After the decision of the Supreme Court placed Mr. 
Gibbons in the full enjoyment of his rights, Captain 
Vanderbilt was allowed to manage the line in his own 
way, and conducted it with so much skill and vigor 
that it paid its owner an annual profit of forty thousand 
dollars. Mr. Gibbons offered to increase his salary to 
five thousand dollars, but he refused to accept the 
offer. 

" I did it on principle," he said, afterward. " The 
other captains had but one thousand, and they were 
already jealous enough of me. Besides, I never cared 
for money. All I ever cared for was to carry my 
point." 

In 1829 he determined to leave the service of Mr. 
Gibbons, with whom he had been connected for eleven 
years. He was thirty-five years old, and had saved 
thirty thousand dollars. He resolved to build a 



264: SELF-MADE MEN. 

steamer of his own, and command her himself, and 
accordingly made known his intention to his employer. 
Mr. Gibbons at once declared that he could not carry 
on the line without his assistance, and told him he 
might make his own terms if he would stay with him. 
Captain Vanderbilt had formed his decision after 
much thought, and being satisfied that he was doing 
right, he persisted in his determination to set up for 
himself. Mr. Gibbons then offered to sell him the 
line on the spot, and to take his pay as the money 
should be earned. It was a splendid offer, but it was 
firmly and gratefully refused. 

After leaving Mr. Gibbons he built a small steamer, 
called the " Caroline/ 1 which he commanded himself. 
In a few years he was the owner of several other 
small steamers plying between New York and the 
neighboring towns. He made slow progress at first, 
for he had strong opposition to overcome. The 
steamboat interest was in the hands of powerful com- 
panies, backed by immense capital. They met their 
match in all cases, however, for Vanderbilt inaugu- 
rated so sharp a business opposition that the best of 
them were forced to compromise with him. These 
troubles were very annoying to him, and cost him 
nearly every dollar he was worth, but he persevered, 
and at length "carried his point. ,, 



CORNELIUS YANDERBILT. 265 

From that time he made his way gradually in his 
business, until he rose to the head of the steamboat 
interest of the United States. 

He built the famous steamer "North Star," and 
made a triumphal cruise in her to the Old World. He 
then offered the Government to carry the mails more 
promptly and regularly than had ever been done 
before, and to do this for a term of years without 
asking one single cent as subsidy. He was allowed 
to do it. 

Some years ago he tried to have a bill passed con- 
solidating the Hudson River and Harlem Railroads, 
and sufficient votes were promised to carry it. Un- 
principled legislators, however, broke their promises, 
and tried to ruin him; but he found out in time to 
avert it, and, instead of losing, gained a large sum of 
money; while the men who tried to ruin him, were 
themselves ruined. 

During the rebellion, Commodore Vanderbilt equip- 
ped his splendid steamer, the " Vanderbilt," as a man- 
of-war, and presented her to the Navy Department as 
a free gift to the nation. 

He was extremely generous to his friends, and gave 
.liberally to charitable objects. He died some few 
years ago, and left a family of thirteen children, 
nearly all of whom are still living. 



ROBERT FULTON. 




'OBERT FULTON was born in ;he township of 
Little Britain (now called Fulton), in Lan- 
caster County, Pennsylvania, in 1765. He 
was of Irish descent, and his father was a farmer in 
moderate circumstances. He was the eldest son and 
third child of a family of five children. 

In 1766, Mr. Fulton, senior, disposed of his farm, 
and removed to the town of Lancaster, where he died 
in 1768, and there young Robert grew up under the 
care of his mother. He learned to read and write 
quickly, but did not manifest much fondness for his 
books after mastering his elementary studies. He 
early exhibited an unusual talent for drawing, however, 
greatly preferring the employment of his pencil to the 
more serious duties of the school. He displayed a 
remarkable talent for mechanism, which was greatly 
assisted by his skill in drawing, and his visits to the 




ROBERT FULTON. 



ROBERT FULTON. 269 

machine shops were always welcomed by both the 
apprentices and their employers, who recognized the 
unusual genius of the boy, and predicted great things 
for him in the future. 

The boyhood of Fulton was passed during the 
stormy period of the Revolution, and in a section so 
close to the theater of war that he was in the midst of 
all the excitement engendered by the conflict. He 
was an ardent patriot from the first, and used his 
pencil freely to caricature all who showed the slightest 
leaning to the cause of the enemy. 

In 1778, when he was thirteen years old, he bought 
some powder and several large sheets of pasteboard, 
and made rockets after his own model, for the purpose 
of celebrating the 4th of July. 

" In the summer of 1779, Robert Fulton evinced an 
extraordinary fondness for inventions. He was a fre- 
quent visitor of Mr. Messersmith's and Mr. Fenno's 
gunsmith shops, almost daily, and endeavored to 
manufacture a small air-gun." 

About this time he planned and completed a small 
working model of a fishing boat, with paddle-wheels. 

Having chosen the profession of an artist and 
portrait painter, young Fulton removed to Philadel- 
phia at the age of seventeen, and remained there, 
pursuing his vocation, until the completion of his 



270 SELF-MADE MEN. 

twenty-first year. He formed there the acquaintance 
of Benjamin Franklin, by whom he was much noticed. 
His success was rapid, and upon attaining his major- 
ity he was enabled to purchase and stock a farm of 
eighty-four acres in Washington County, Pennsylvania, 
which he gave to his mother for a home as long as 
she should live. Having thus insured her comfort, he 
went to England for the purpose of completing his 
studies in his profession. He took with him letters to 
Benjamin West, then at the height of his fame, and 
living in London. He was cordially received by Mr. 
West, who was also a native of Pennsylvania, and re- 
mained an inmate of his family for several years. 

Upon leaving the family of Mr. West, Fulton com- 
menced a tour for the purpose of examining the 
treasures of art contained in the residences of the 
English nobility, and remained for two years in 
Devonshire. There he became acquainted with the 
Duke of Bridgewater, and it is said that he was induced 
by this nobleman to abandon the profession of an 
artist, and enter upon that of a civil engineer. Here 
he also met with Watt, who had just produced the 
steam-engine, which Fulton studied enthusiastically. 
His own inventive genius was not idle, and while liv- 
ing in Devonshire, he produced an improved mill for 
sawing marble, which won him the thanks and medal 



ROBERT FULTON. 271 

of the British Society for the Promotion of the Arts 
and Commerce; a machine for spinning flax and mak- 
ing ropes; and an excavator for scooping out the 
channels of canals and aqueducts, all of which were 
patented. He published a number of communica- 
tions on the subject of canals in one of the leading 
London journals, and a treatise upon the same sub- 
ject Having obtained a patent in England for canal 
improvements, he went to France in 1797, with the 
design of introducing them in that country. He re- 
mained in Paris seven years, residing during that time 
with Mr. Joel Barlow, and devoting himself to the 
study of modern languages, and engineering and its 
kindred sciences. 

His work was continuous and severe in Paris. He 
invented and painted the first panorama ever exhibited 
in that city, which he sold for the purpose of raising 
money for his experiments in steam navigation; he 
also designed a series of splendid colored illustrations 
for The Columbiad, the famous poem of his friend Mr. 
Barlow. Besides these, he invented a number of im- 
provements in canals, aqueducts, inclined planes, 
boats, and guns, which yielded him considerable 
credit, but very little profit. 

Fulton also invented a torpedo, or infernal machine, 
for the purpose of destroying vessels of war by 



272 SELF-MADE MEN. 

approaching them under water and breaking up their 
hulls by the explosion. At one time, when it was 
thought that England would purchase Fulton's inven- 
tion, it was intimated to him that he would be required 
to pledge himself not to dispose of it to any other 
power. He replied promptly: 

" Whatever may be your award, I never will consent 
to let these inventions lie dormant should my country 
at any time have need of them. Were you to grant 
me an annuity of twenty thousand pounds, I would 
sacrifice all to the safety and independence of my 
country." 

In 1806, Mr. Fulton returned to New York, and in 
the same year he married Miss Harriet Livingston, a 
niece of Chancellor Livingston, by whom he had four 
children. He offered his torpedo to the General 
Government, but the trial to which it was subjected 
by the Navy Department was unsuccessful for him, 
and the Government declined to purchase the inven- 
tion. 

But it was not as the inventor of engines of destruc- 
tion that Robert Fulton was to achieve fame. From 
the time that Fulton had designed the paddle-wheels 
for his fishing-boat, he had never ceased to give his 
attention to the subject of propelling vessels by 
machinery, and after his acquaintance with Watt, he 



ROBERT FULTON. 273 

was more than ever convinced that the steam-engine 
could, under proper circumstances, be made to furnish 
the motive power. 

It was in the face of many failures that Fulton 
applied himself to the task of designing a successful 
steamboat. During his residence in Paris he had 
made the acquaintance of Mr. Robert R. Livingstone, 
then the American minister in France, who had pre- 
viously been connected with some unsuccessful steam- 
boat experiments at home. Mr. Livingston joined 
heartily with him in his efforts to prove his theories 
by experiments, and it was finally agreed between 
them to build a large boat for trial on the Seine. This 
experimental steamer was furnished with paddle 
wheels, and was completed and launched early in the 
spring of 1803. Before it could be tried, however, 
the weight of the machinery carried it to the bottom 
of the river. He at once set to work to raise the 
machinery, devoting twenty-four hours, without rest- 
ing or eating, to the undertaking, and succeeded in 
doing so, but inflicted upon his constitution a strain 
from which he never entirely recovered. The machin- 
ery was very slightly damaged, but it was necessary to 
rebuild the boat entirely. This was accomplished by 
July of the same year, and the boat was tried in 
August with triumphant success, in the presence of 



274 SELF-MADE MEN. 

the French National Institute and a vast crowd of the 
citizens of Paris. 

This steamer was very defective, but still so great 
an improvement upon all that had preceded it, that 
Messrs. Fulton and Livingston determined to build one 
on a larger scale in the waters of New York, the right 
of navigating which by steam vessels had been secured 
by the latter as far back as 1798. The law which 
granted this right had been continued from time to 
time through Mr. Livingston's influence, and was 
finally amended so as to include Fulton within its pro- 
visions. Having resolved to return home, Fulton set 
out as soon as possible, stopping in England on his 
return, to order an engine for his boat from Watt and 
Boulton. He gave an exact description of the 
engine, which was built in strict accordance with his 
plan, but declined to state the use to which he in- 
tended putting it. 

Very soon after his arrival in New York, he com- 
menced building his first American boat, and finding 
that her cost would greatly exceed his estimate, he 
offered for sale a third interest in the monopoly of the 
navigation of the waters of New York, held by Living- 
ston and himself, in order to raise money to build the 
boat, and thus lighten the burdens of himself and his 
partner, but he could find no one willing to risk 



ROBERT FULTON. 275 

money in such a scheme. Scientific men ana ama- 
teurs all agreed in pronouncing Fulton's scheme im- 
practicable; but he went on with his work, his boat 
attracting no less attention and exciting no less ridi- 
cule than the ark had received from the scoffers in the 
days of Noah. The steam-engine ordered from 
Boulton and Watt was received in the latter part of 
1806; and in the following spring the boat was launched 
from the ship-yard of Charles Brown, on the East 
River. Fulton named her the " Clermont," after the 
country seat of his friend and partner, Chancellor 
Livingston. She was one hundred and sixty tons 
burthen, one hundred and thirty feet long, eighteen 
feet wide, and seven feet deep. Her engine was made 
with a single cylinder, two feet in diameter, and of 
four feet stroke; and her boiler was twenty feet long, 
seven feet deep, and eight feet broad. The diameter 
of the paddle-wheels was fifteen feet, the boards four 
feet long, and dipping two feet in the water. The boat 
was completed about the last of August, and she was 
moved by her machinery from the East River into the 
Hudson, and over to the Jersey shore. This trial, 
brief as it was, satisfied Fulton of its success, and he 
announced that in a few days the steamer would sail 
from New York for Albany. A few friends, including 
several scientific men and mechanics, were invited to 



276 SELF-MADE MEN. 

take passage in the boat, to witness her performance; 
and they accepted the invitation with a general con- 
viction that they were to do but little more than wit- 
ness another failure. 

Monday, September 10, 1807, came at length, and a 
vast crowd assembled along the shore of the North 
River to witness the starting. Precisely at one o'clock 
— the hour for sailing — the moorings were thrown off, 
and the " Clermont " moved slowly out into the 
stream. In a little while she was fairly under weigh, 
and making a steady progress up the stream at the 
rate of five miles per hour. Fulton soon discovered 
that the paddles were too long, and took too deep a 
hold on the water, and stopped the boat for the pur- 
pose of shortening them. 

Having remedied this defect, the " Clermont" con- 
tinued her voyage during the rest of the day and all 
night, without stopping, and at one o'clock the next 
day ran alongside the landing at Clermont, the seat of 
Chancellor Livingston. She lay there until nine the 
next morning, when she continued her voyage toward 
Albany, reaching that city at five in the afternoon, 
having made the entire distance between New York 
and Albany (one hundred and fifty miles) in thirty-two 
hours of actual running time, an average speed of 
nearly five miles per hour. On her return trip, she 



ROBERT FULTON. 277 

reached New York in thirty hours running time — 
exactly five miles per hour. Fulton states that during 
both trips he encountered a head wind. She con- 
tinued to ply regularly between New York and Albany 
until the close of navigation for that season, always 
carrying a full complement of passengers, and more or 
less freight. During the winter she was overhauled 
and enlarged, and her speed improved. In the spring 
of 1808 she resumed her regular trips, and since then 
steam navigation on the Hudson has not ceased for a 
single day, except during the closing of the river by 
ice. 

In 1811 and 1812, Fulton built two steam ferry- 
boats for the North River, and soon after added a third 
for the East River. These boats were the beginning of 
the magnificent steam ferry system which is to-day one 
of the chief wonders of New York. 

Early in 18 14, the city of New York was seriously 
menaced with an attack from the British fleet, and 
Fulton, at the request of a committee of citizens, pre- 
pared plans for a vessel of war to be propelled by 
steam, capable of carrying a strong battery, with 
furnaces for red-hot shot, and which, he represented, 
would move at the rate of four miles an hour. In 
March, 1814, Congress authorized the building of one 
or more floating batteries after the plan presented bv 



278 SELF-MADE MEN. 

Fulton. Her keel was laid on the 20th of June, 1814, 
and on the 31st of October of the same year, she was 
launched, amid great rejoicings, from the ship-yard of 
Adam and Noah Brown. In May, 1815, her engines 
were put on board, and on the 4th of July of that 
year she made a trial trip to Sandy Hook and back, 
accomplishing the round trip — a distance of fifty-three 
miles — in eight hours and twenty minutes, under steam 
alone. Before this, however, peace had been pro- 
claimed, and Fulton had gone to rest from his labors. 
The ship was a complete success, and was the first 
steam vessel of war ever built. 

Fulton followed up the " Clermont," in 1807, with a 
larger boat, called the " Car of Neptune/' which was 
placed on the Albany route as soon as completed. 
In 1809 Fulton obtained his first patent from the 
United States; and in 18 11 he took out a second 
patent for some improvement in his boats and ma- 
chinery. His patents were limited to the simple 
means of adapting paddle wheels to the axle of the 
crank of Watt's engine. 

He died on the 24th of February, 1815, at the age 
of fifty years. He left a widow and four children. 
By the terms of his will he bequeathed to his wife an 
income of nine thousand dollars a year, and five hun- 
dred dollars to each of his children until they were 



ROBERT FULTON. 279 

twelve years old, after which they were each to receive 
one thousand dollars a year until they should attain 
the age of twenty-one years. 

In person, Fulton was tall and handsome. His 
manner was polished, cordial, and winning. He made 
friends rapidly, and never failed in his efforts to enlist 
capital and influence in support of his schemes. He 
was manly, fearless, and independent in character, and 
joined to a perfect integrity a patience and indomi- 
table resolution which enabled him to bear up under 
every disappointment, and which won him in the end 
a glorious success. 



15 




GEN. JAS. A. GARFIELD. 



tT has been observed by an eminent philosopher 
that some men make themselves great, and some 
men have greatness thrust upon them. While 

the presidential nomination fell upon General Garfield 
with all the suddenness of the lighning bolt to which 
it is so often likened, it is the only stroke of pure 
good fortune that ever fell to him. His success, his 
position before the country, were the results of his 
untiring industry and his sturdy sense of duty. He 
never had the advantages of wealth nor of family 
connections, and he kept himself in Congress for 
seventeen years by a popularity based on his character 
and his legitimate work as a legislator, and not by 
artifice or trimming. 

James Abram Garfield was born in Orange, 
Cuyahoga County, Ohio, fifteen miles from Cleveland, 
Nov. 10, 1831. His father was a farmer in moderate 



GEN. JAS. A. GARFIELD. 283 

circumstances, and died when James was only two 
years old. There were three other children. 

All the children had to work hard, as the widow had 
but scanty means of support for her family. James 
worked on the farm in summer and in a carpenter's 
shop in the winter. Finding that he could make better 
wages working on the Ohio canal, he secured employ- 
ment first as driver on the towpath and afterward as 
helmsman. He intended at one time to ship as a sea- 
man on a lake vessel, but his plans were changed by 
a fit of sickness, and his intentions were turned in 
another direction. He had from early boyhood felt a 
very keen desire for an education, and had been 
laboriously saving money to enable him to go to 
school. After recovering from the fit of sickness just 
referred to, he became a pupil of the Geanga academy, 
near his home. His mother was able to let him have 
a little money, and this she supplemented with some 
provisions and cooking utensils, and he boarded him- 
self at school. After this start that his mother gave 
him, he never called on her for assistance. He spent 
all his odd hours at the carpenter's bench, taught 
school winters, and thus managed to support himself, 
attend the regular terms of the academy, and save 
some money for a college education. Having a very 
retentive memory, he learned with comparative ease. 



284 SELF-MADE MEN. 

A reminiscence of his earlier manhood is found in 
the recital given by one Capt. Stiles, the present sheriff 
of Ashtabula County, Ohio. In 1850, Capt. Stiles 
relates, Garfield taught the district school of Stiles' 
district, and "boarded around." Like many other 
school-masters of pioneer days, Garfield's wardrobe 
was scanty, consisting of but one suit of blue jean. 
One day the schoolmaster was so unfortunate as to 
rend his pantaloons across the knee in an unseemly 
degree. He pinned up the rend as best he could, 
and went to the homestead of the Stiles' where he 
was then , boarding. Good Mrs. Stiles cheeringly 
said to the unfortunate pedagogue, " Oh, well, James, 
never mind ; you go to bed early and I will put a 
nice patch under that tear and darn it up all nice so 
that it will last all winter, and when you get to be 
United States Senator, nobody will ask you what 
kind of clothes you wore when you were keeping 
school." When Gen. Garfield was elected Senator 
from the State of Ohio, Mrs. Stiles, who is still a 
hale old lady, sent her congratulations to him and 
reminded him of the torn pantaloons; and for her 
kindly congratulations she received a most touching 
reply from the newly elected Senator, assuring her 
that the incident was fresh in his memory. 

At the age of 23 years he had education enough to 



GEN. JAS. A. GARFIELD. 285 

enter the junior class at college, and money enough to 
support him at college for a year. He borrowed 
enough money to support him another year, and in 
1854 he entered the junior class of Williams College. 
In 1856 he graduated with honors. 

When Garfield returned to Ohio, he obtained the 
Professorship of Latin and Greek in the little college 
at Hiram, Portage County, Ohio. He devoted him- 
self assiduously not only to the instruction of his 
classes, but to the better establishment of the college, 
and he had not been professor two years when he was 
made president. The college was under the control 
of the Campbellite denomination, a body with which 
he had connected himself before going to college. As- 
president of the college he pursued his own studies- 
while teaching others, constantly adding to his stock 
of information. The Campbellites have no ordained 
ministry, and on Sundays President Garfield often* 
addressed the congregations of his denomination, but 
he never contemplated devoting himself to the minis- 
try as a regular thing. His preaching was merely 
incidental. 

While a professor of Greek and Latin, Gen. Gar- 
field was very happily married to Miss Lucretia 
Rudolph, daughter of a neighboring farmer. As a 
girl, she was quiet, thoughtful, refined. As a woman, 



286 SELF-MADE MEN. 

her qualities of mind, as well as of heart, have 
contributed materially to her husband's successful 
career. Several children were born to Gen. and 
Mrs. Garfield, two of whom have died. Harry and 
James, the two oldest children, are now strong 
young men. Molly, the only daughter, is a young 
lady. The youngest children are two boys, Irwin 
and Abram. 

The General's political career began in 1859. He 
was elected at that time to the State Senate, but did 
not resign his college presidency, having no idea then 
of a public career. But the war came to alter all his 
plans. During the winter of 1861 he was active in 
the passage of measures for arming the State militia, 
and his eloquence and energy made him a conspicu- 
ous leader of the Union party. Early in the summer 
of 1861, he was elected Colonel of an infantry regi- 
ment (the 42d) raised in Northern Ohio, many of the 
soldiers in which had been students at Hiram, He 
took the field in Eastern Kentucky, was soon put 
in command of a brigade, and by making one of the 
hardest marches ever made by recruits, surprised and 
routed the rebel forces, under Humphrey Marshal, 
at Piketon. 

From Eastern Kentucky Gen. Garfield was trans- 
ferred to Louisville, and from that place hastened to 



GEN. JAS. A. GARFIELD. 287 

join the army of Gen. Buell, which he reached with 
his brigade in time to participate in the second day's 
righting at Pittsburg Landing. He took part in the 
siege of Corinth, and in the operations along the 
Memphis and Charleston railroad. In January, 1863, 
he was appointed chief of staff of the army of the 
Cumberland, and bore a prominent share in all the 
campaigns in middle Tennessee in the spring and 
summer of that year. His last conspicuous military 
service was at the battle of Chickamauga. For his 
conduct in that battle he was promoted to a Major- 
Generalship. 

General Garfield was nominated for Congress in 
1862, while he was in the field, without asking his con- 
sent. When he heard of the nomination, Garfield re- 
flected that it would be fifteen months before the 
Congress would meet to which he would be elected, 
and believing, as did everyone else, that the war could 
not possibly last a year longer, concluded to accept. 

He remained in the field till his term of office 
began, and, the war being then in progress, expressed 
considerable regret that he had accepted the election. 

On entering Congress, in December, 1863, General 
Garfield was placed upon the committee on military 
affairs, with Schenck and Farnsworth, who were also 
fresh from the field. He took an active part in the 



288 SELF-MADE MEN. 

debates of the House, and won a recognition which 
few new members succeeded in gaining. He was not 
popular among his fellow-members during his first 
term. They thought him something of a pedant 
because he sometimes showed his scholarship in his 
speeches, and they were jealous of his prominence. 
His solid attainments and amiable social qualities 
enabled him to overcome this prejudice during his 
second term, and he became on terms of close friend- 
ship with the best men in both Houses. His commit- 
tee service during his second term was on the ways 
and means, which was quite to his taste, for it gave 
him an opportunity to prosecute the studies in finance 
and political economy which he had always felt a 
fondness for. He was a hard worker and a great 
reader in those days, going home with his arms full of 
books from the Congressional library, and sitting up 
late nights to read them. It was then that he laid the 
foundations of the convictions on the subject of 
national finance which he uniformly held to firmly 
amid all the storms of political agitation. He was re- 
nominated in 1864, without opposition ; but in 1866 
Mr. Hutchins, whom he had supplanted, made an 
effort to defeat him. Hutchins canvassed the district 
thoroughly, but the convention nominated Garfield 
by acclamation. Thereafter he had no opposition in 



GEN. JAS. A. GARFIELD. 289 

his own party. In 1872 the Liberals and Democrats 
united to beat him, but his majority was larger than 
ever. In 1874 the Greenbackers and Democrats 
combined and put up a popular soldier against him, 
but they made no impression on the result. 

When James G. Blaine went to the Senate, in 1877, 
the mantle of Republican leadership in the House 
was by common consent placed upon Garfield, and 
he wore it with honor. 

In January, 1880, General Garfield was elected to 
the Senate to the seat which w r as vacated by Allen G. 
Thurman on the 4th of March, 1881. He received 
the unanimous vote of the Republican caucus, an 
honor never given to any other man of any party in 
the State of Ohio. 

General Garfield acquired a large influence in 
Congress, and commanded the respect of both parties, 
as few other men did. This respect was based on an 
open, cordial disposition, and the universally acknowl- 
edged sincerity and ability of the man. He was 
notable for his studious and methodical habits. He 
was found on one occasion in the Congressional 
library, poring over a table full of editions of Horace, 
and critical works regarding that poet. He explained 
his occupation by saying that he found he was over- 
worked, and he was resting himself by applying his 



290 SELF-MADE MEN. 

mind to subjects having no connection with his Con- 
gressional duties. 

What a grand scene was that in the Senate 
chamber, in the great rotunda, and on the porch of 
the Capitol, when General Garfield took the oath of 
office and delivered his inaugural address ! He was 
calm and firm in all his movements before the 
assembled thousands, and his voice was clear and 
strong as he read his recommendations concerning" a 
better civil service. How little did he know that he 
must give his life for those principles, before the 
people could be made to realize the situation. 

Among the thousands of persistent hunters for 
office who followed General Garfield and intruded 
themselves upon his notice, was Charles J. Guiteau. 
He was born in Freeport, Illinois, and was by pro- 
fession a lawyer. He was not long in the practice of 
law, owing to the fact that in Chicago and New 
York, the only places where he opened an office he 
was unable to obtain business. He seems to have 
been from earliest boyhood an erratic, self-willed, 
cruel character. He dogged the President's footsteps 
seeking office, and mortified at his failure he deter- 
mined to have revenge. Various schemes suggested 
themselves to him, according to his own confession, 
which would bring disgrace and failure upon the 
administration and shame upon the Piesident, but 
none would or could satisfy him but the murder of 
General Garfield. Arming himself with a heavy 
revolver, he determined to obtain his revenge by 



GEN. JAS. A. GARFIELD. 291 

shooting the President. On Friday, the 1st day of 
July, 1881, Guiteau saw by the papers that the Presi- 
dent intended to take the train for New York the 
next morning. On the morning of July 2d he loaded 
his revolver and quietly waited at the railway station 
for his victim. The President passed him and he 
fired the first shot. He was so close to his victim 
that he saw that his aim had hot been true, and as 
the startled President leaped one side the assassin 
took a surer aim and fired the second time with 
deadly effect. The awful calamity was telegraphed 
to all parts of the world, striking horror to all hearts. 
After months of heroic, patient suffering, the Presi- 
dent expired peacefully and calmly. 

Everywhere there was weeping, and the messages 
of condolence which came to Mrs. Garfield were as 
sincere as they were numerous. One of the first 
received was from the Queen of England, and read 
as follows : — 

Balmoral. 

"Words cannot express the deep sympathy I feel 
with you. May God support and comfort you, as 
He alone can. 

" Signed The Queen." 

Towns, cities, and states, republics and kingdoms, 
including nearly every nation on earth, sent their 
messages of sympathy. The exhibition of a grief so 
world-wide was a sublime event, and something new 
in the world's history c 



ELIAS HOWE. 



I^LIAS HOWE was born in the town of Spencer, 
Massachusetts, in 1819. He was one of eight 
children. His father was a farmer and miller, 
and, as was the custom at that time in the country 
towns of New England, carried on in his family some 
of those minor branches of industry suited to the 
capacity of children, with which New England abounds. 
When Elias was six years old, he was set, with his 
brothers and sisters, to sticking wire teeth through the 
leather straps used for making cotton cards. When 
he became old enough, he assisted his father in his 
saw-mill and grist-mill, and during the winter months 
picked up a meager education at the district school. 
He was not fitted for hard work, however, as he was 
frail in constitution and incapable of bearing much 
fatigue. Moreover, he inherited a species of lameness 
which proved a great obstacle to any undertaking oa 



ELIAS HOWE. 293 

his part, and gave him no little trouble all through life. 
At the age of eleven he went to live out on the farm 
of a neighbor, but the labor proving too severe for 
him, he returned home and resumed his place in his 
father's mills, where he remained until he was sixteen 
years old. 

When at this age, he conceived an ardent desire to 
go to Lowell to seek his fortune. Obtaining his father's 
consent, he went there, and found employment as a 
learner in one of the large cotton mills of the city. 
He remained there two years, when the great financial 
disaster of 1837 threw him out of employment and 
compelled him to look for work elsewhere. He obtained 
a place at Cambridge, in a machine-shop, and was put 
to work upon the new hemp-carding machinery of 
Professor Treadwell. 

Howe remained in Cambridge only a few months, 
however, and was then given a place in the machine- 
shop of Ari Davis, of Boston. 

At the age of twenty-one he married. This was a 
rash step for him, as his health was very delicate, and 
his earnings were but nine dollars per week. Three 
children were born to him in quick succession, and he 
found it no easy task to provide food, shelter and 
clothing for his little family. The light-heartedness 
for which he had formerly been noted entirely deserted 



?94 SELF-MADE MEN. 

him, and he became sad and melancholy. His health 
did not improve, and it was with difficulty that he 
could perform his daily task. His strength was so 
slight that he would frequently return home from his 
day's work too much exhausted to eat. He could only 
go to bed, and in his agony he wished " to lie in bed 
forever and ever." Still he worked faithfully and con- 
scientiously, for his wife and children were very dear 
to him; but he did so with a hopelessness which only 
those who have tasted the depths of poverty can 
understand. 

About this time he heard it said that the great 
necessity of the age was a machine for doing sewing, 
and it was conceded by all who thought of the matter 
at all, that the man who could invent such a machine 
would make a fortune. Howe's poverty inclined him 
to listen to these remarks with great interest. He set 
to work to achieve the task, and, as he knew well the 
dangers which surround an inventor, kept his own 
counsel. He watched his wife as she sewed, and his 
first effort was to devise a machine which should do 
what she was doing. He made a needle pointed at 
both ends, with the eye in the middle, that should 
work up and down through the cloth, and carry the 
thread through at each thrust; but his elaboration of 
this conception would not work satisfactorily. It was 



ELIAS HOWE. 295 

not until 1844, over a vear after he began the attempt 
to invent the machine, that he conceived the idea of 
using two threads, and forming a stitch by the aid of 
a shuttle and a curved needle with the eye near the 
point. This was the triumph of his skill. Satisfied 
that he had at length solved the problem, he con- 
structed a rough model of his machine of wood and 
wire, in October, 1844, and operated it to his perfect 
satisfaction. 

At this time, he had abandoned his work as a 
journeyman mechanic, and had removed to his father's 
house. His father had established in Cambridge a 
machine-shop for the cutting of strips of palm-leaf 
used in the manufacture of hats. Elias and his family 
lived under his father's roof, and in the garret of the 
house the half-sick inventor put up a lathe, where he 
did a little work on his own account, and labored on 
his sewing-machine. He was miserably poor, and 
could scarcely earn enough to provide food for his 
family; and, to make matters worse, his father, who 
was disposed to help nim, lost his shop and its con- 
tents by fire. Poor Elias was in a most deplorable 
condition. - He had his model in his head, and was 
fully satisfied of its excellence, but he had not the 
money to buy the materials needed in making a per- 
fect machine, which would have to be constructed of 



296 SELF-MADE MEN. 

steel and iron, and without which he could not hope 
to convince others of its value. His great invention 
was useless to him without the five hundred dollars 
which he needed in the construction of a working 
model. 

In this dilemma, he applied to a friend, Mr. George 
Fisher, a coal and wood merchant of Cambridge, who 
was a man of some means. He explained his inven- 
tion to him, and succeeded in forming a partnership 
with him. Fisher agreed to take Howe and his family 
to board with him while the latter was making the 
machine, to allow his garret to be used as a workshop, 
and to advance the five hundred dollars necessary for 
the purchase of tools and the construction of a model. 
In return for this he was to receive one-half of the 
patent, if Howe succeeded in patenting his machine. 
About the first of December, 1844, Howe and his 
family accordingly moved into Fisher's house, and the 
little workshop was set up in the garret. He worked 
all day, and sometimes nearly all night, and in April, 
1845, had his machine so far advanced that he sewed 
a seam with it. By the middle of May the machine 
was completed, and in July he sewed with it the seams 
of two woolen suits, one for himself and the other for 
Mr. Fisher. The sewing was so well done that it out- 
lasted the cloth. 



ELIAS HOWE. 297 

Having patented his machine, Howe endeavored to 
bring it into use. He first offered it to the tailors of 
Boston; but they, while admitting its usefulness, told 
him it would never be adopted by their trade, as it 
would ruin them. Other efforts were equally unsuc- 
cessful. Every one admitted and praised the ingenuity 
of the machine, but no one would invest a dollar in 
it. Fisher became disgusted, and withdrew from his 
partnership, and Howe and his family moved back 
to his father's house. Thoroughly disheartened, he 
abandoned his machine. He then obtained a place as 
engineer on a railroad, and drove a locomotive until 
his health entirely broke down. 

With the loss of his health his hopes revived, and 
he determined to seek in England the victory which 
he had failed to win here. Unable to go himself, he 
sent his machine by his brother Amasa, in October, 
1846. There he found Mr. William Thomas, of 
Cheapside, London, and explained to him his brother's 
invention. Mr. Thomas offered the sum of twelve 
hundred and fifty dollars for the machine which 
Amasa Howe had brought with him, and agreed to 
pay Elias fifteen dollars per week if he would enter 
his service, and adapt the machine to his business of 
umbrella and corset making. Elias accepted the offer, 
and, upon his brother's return to the United States, 
16 



298 SELF-MADE MEN. 

sailed for England. He remained in Mr. Thomas's 
employ for about eight months, and at the end of that 
time left him, having found him hard, exacting, and 
unreasonable. 

Meanwhile his sick wife and three children had 
joined him in London, and he had found it hard to 
provide for them on the wages given him by Mr. 
Thomas; but after being thrown out of employment 
his condition was desperate indeed. He was in a 
strange country, without friends or money, and often 
he and his little family went whole days without food. 
Their sufferings were very great, but at length Howe 
was able (probably by assistance from home) to send 
his family back to his father's house. He himself re- 
mained in London, still hoping to bring his machine 
into use. It was in vain, however, and so, collecting 
what few household goods he had acquired in Eng- 
land, he shipped them to America, and followed them 
thither himself in another vessel, pawning his model 
and patent papers to pay his passage. When he 
landed in New York he had half a crown in his pocket, 
and there came to him on the same day a letter telling 
him that his wife was dying with consumption in 
Cambridge. He was compelled to wait several days, 
as he was too feeble to walk, until he could obtain the 
money for his fare to Cambridge, but at length sue- 



ELIAS HOWE. 299 

ceeded in reaching that plaxe jr^t in time to see his 
wife die. In the midst of his grief he received the 
announcement that the vessel containing the few 
household goods which he had shipped from England 
had been lost at sea. It seemed to him that Fate was 
bent upon destroying him, so rapid and stunning were 
the blows she dealt him. 

Soon after his return home, however, he obtained 
profitable employment, and, better still, discovered 
that his machine had become famous during his ab- 
sence. Fac-similes of it had been constructed by un- 
scrupulous mechanics, who paid no attention to the 
patents of the inventor, and these copies had been ex- 
hibited in many places as " wonders," and had even 
been adopted in many important branches of manu- 
facture. Howe at once set to work to defend his 
rights. He found friends to aid him, and in August, 
1850, began those famous suits which continued for 
four years, and were at length decided in his favor. 

In 1850, Howe removed to New York, and began 
in a small way to manufacture machines to order. He 
was in partnership with a Mr. Bliss, but for several 
years the business was so unimportant that upon the 
death of his partner, in 1855, he was enabled to buy 
out that gentleman's interest, and thus become the sole 
proprietor of his patent. Soon after this his business 



300 SELF-MADE MEN. 

began to increase, and continued until his own proper 
profits and the royalty which the courts compelled 
other manufacturers to pay him for the use of his in- 
vention grew from #300 to $200,000 per annum. In 
1867, when the extension of his patent expired, it is 
stated that he had earned a total of two millions of 
dollars by it. It cost him large sums to defend his 
rights, however, and he was very far from being as 
wealthy as was commonly supposed, although a very 
rich man. 

In the Paris Exposition of 1867, he exhibited his 
machines, and received the gold medal of the Exposi- 
tion, and the Cross of the Legion of Honor in 
addition, as a compliment to him as a manufacturer 
and inventor. 

He contributed money liberally to the aid of the 
Union in the late war, and enlisted as a private soldier 
in the Seventeenth Regiment of Connecticut Volun- 
teers. He died at Brooklyn, Long Island, on the 3d 
of October, 1867. 





HIRAM POWERS. 



HIRAM POWERS. 



^T^IRAM POWERS was born in Woodstock, Ver- 
I ||J| mont, on the 29th of July, 1805. He was the 
^t eighth in a family of nine children, and was 
the son of a farmer who found it hard to provide his 
little household with the necessaries of life. He 
grew up as most New England boys do, sound and 
vigorous in health, passing the winters in attendance 
upon the district schools, and the summers in working 
on the farm. " The only distinctive trait exhibited 
by the child was mechanical ingenuity; he excelled 
in caricature, was an adept in constructiveness, having 
made countless wagons, windmills, and weapons for 
his comrades, attaining the height of juvenile reputa- 
tion as the inventor of what he called a i patent fuse.' " 
His father was induced to become security for one 
of his friends, and, as frequently happens, lost all he 
had in consequence. Following close upon this dis- 



304 SELF-MADE MEN. 

aster came a dreadful famine in the State, caused by 
an almost total failure of the crops. 

One of the sons had managed to secure an educa- 
tion at Dartmouth College, and had removed to Cin- 
cinnati, where he was at this time editing a newspaper. 
Thither his father, discouraged by the famine, deter- 
mined to follow him. Accordingly, placing his house- 
hold goods and his family in three wagons, and being 
joined by another family, he set out on the long 
journey to the West. This was in 1819, when young 
Hiram was fourteen years old. In due time they 
reached the Ohio River, down which stream they 
floated on a flatboat until they came to Cincinnati, 
then a city of fourteen thousand inhabitants. 

Through the assistance of his eldest son, the editor, 
Mr. Powers was enabled to secure a farm not far from 
Cincinnati, and removing his family to it, began the 
task of clearing and cultivating it Unfortunately for 
the new-comers, the farm was located on the edge of 
a pestilential marsh, the poisonous exhalations of 
which soon brought the whole family down with the 
ague. Mr. Powers the elder died from this disease, 
and Hiram was ill and disabled from it for a whole 
year. The family was broken up and scattered, and 
our hero, incapable of performing hard work so soon 
*fter his sickn«*«, obtained a place in a produce store 



HIRAM POWERS, 305 

in Cincinnati, his duty being to watch the principal 
road by which the farmers' wagons, laden with grain 
and corn whisky, came into the city, and to inform 
the men in charge of them that they could obtain bet- 
ter prices for their produce from his employers than 
from any other merchant in the city. It was also a 
part of his duty to help to roll the barrels from the 
wagons to the store. He made a very good "drum- 
mer," and gave satisfaction to his employers, but as 
the concern soon broke up, he was again without em- 
ployment. 

His brother, the editor, now came to his assistance, 
and made a bargain with the landlord of a hotel in 
the city to establish a reading-room at his hotel. The 
landlord was to provide the room and obtain a few 
paying subscribers ; the editor was to stock it with his 
exchange newspapers, and Hiram was to be put in 
charge of it and receive what could be made by it. 
The reading-room was established, but as the landlord 
failed to comply with his agreement, Powers was forced 
to abandon the undertaking. 

About that time, a clock-maker and organ-builder 
employed him to collect bad debts in the country. He 
succeeded so well that his employer offered to give 
him a place in the factory, saying there would always 
be plenty of rough work at which an inexperienced 



306 SELF-MADE MEN. 

hand could employ himself. His first task was to thin 
iown with a file some brass plates which were to be 
ased as parts of the stops of an organ. Powers was 
expected to do merely the rough work, after which the 
plates were to pass into the hands of the regular 
finisher. His employer, knowing that the task was one 
which would require time, told him he would look in 
in a few days, and see how he had succeeded. The 
young man's mechanical talent, on which he had prided 
himself when a boy in Vermont, now did him good 
service, and he applied himself to his task with skill 
and determination. When his employer asked for the 
plates, he was astonished to find that Powers had not 
only done the rough work, but had finished them 
much better than the regular finisher had ever done, 
and this merely by his greater nicety of eye and his 
undaunted energy. He had blistered his hands ter- 
ribly, but had done his work well. His employer was 
delighted, and, finding him so valuable an assistant, 
soon gave him the superintendence of all his ma- 
chinery, and took him to live in his own family. 

Powers displayed great skill in the management of 
the mechanical department of the business, and this, 
added to the favor shown him by the " boss," drew 
upon him the jealousy of the other workmen. In face 
of the ridicule of the workmen, he invented a ma 



HIRAM POWERS. 307 

chii s for cutting out wooden clock wheels, in con- 
side ration of which he received an old silver bull's- 
eye watch. 

Soon after this, in a chance visit to the Museum ir. 
Cincinnati, he saw a plaster cast of Houdon's " Wash- 
ington. 1 ' It was the first bust he had ever seen, and 
he : xys it moved him strangely. He had an intense 
dc.j^re to know how it was done, and a vague con- 
sciousness that he could do work of the same kind if 
he could find an instructor. The instructor he soon 
found in a German living in the city, who made 
plaster casts of busts, and from him he learned the 
secret of the art. He proved an apt pupil, and sur- 
prised his teacher by his proficiency. 

The true principles of his art seemed to come to 
him naturally, and having the genius to comprehend 
them so readily, he had the courage to hold on to 
them often in the face of adverse criticism. While 
conscious of having a perfectly correct eye, however, 
he did not scorn the humbler method of obtaining 
( ractness by mathematical measurement. 

He did not regularly devote himself to his art, how- 
ever, but remained in the employment of the organ 
and clock maker for some time longer, giving his 
leisure hours to constant practice. When he was 
abo^t twenty-three vears old. a Frenchman., owning a 



308 SELF-MADE MEN. 

museum of natural history and wax figures, induced 
him to become " inventor, wax-figure maker, and gen- 
eral mechanical contriver " in the museum. Powers 
remained in his employ for seven years, hoping all the 
while to earn money enough to devote himself entirely 
to art, which had now become his great ambition. He 
had married in this interval, and had a wife and 
children to support. 

Powers was now thirty years old and had acquired 
considerable reputation in Cincinnati as an artist. 
His abilities coming to the notice of Mr. Nicholas 
Longworth, of that city, that good genius of young 
men of talent called on him and offered to buy out 
the museum and establish him in the business. The 
offer was declined with thanks. Mr. Longworth then 
proposed to send him to Italy to study his profession, 
but this, too, being declined, Mr. Longworth urged 
him to go to Washington and try his fortune with the 
public men of the country. To this Powers consented, 
and, aided by his generous friend, he repaired to the 
national capital in 1835, and spent two years there. 
During this period he modeled busts of Andrew Jack- 
son, J. Q. Adams, Calhoun, Chief Justice Marshall, 
Woodbury, Van Buren, and others. Being unable to 
secure a model of Webster in Washington, the states- 
man invited him to go to Marshficld for that purpose. 



HIRAM POWERS. 309 

Powers accepted the invitation, and declares that he 
looks back upon his. sojourn there as one of the most 
delightful portions of his life. 

General Jackson was very kind to him, and won his 
lasting esteem and gratitude. 

One of his sitters in Washington was Senator 
Preston, of South Carolina, who conceived such an 
interest in him that he wrote to his brother, General 
Preston, of Columbia, South Carolina, a gentleman of 
great wealth, urging him to come to the artist's assist- 
ance, and send him to Italy. General Preston at once 
responded to this appeal, of which Powers was igno- 
rant, and wrote to the artist to draw on him for a 
thousand dollars, and go to Italy at once, and to draw 
on him annually for a similar sum for several years. 
Powers was profoundly touched by this noble offer, 
and accepted it as frankly as it had been made. He 
sent his models to Italy, and took his departure for 
the Old World in 1837. Speaking of Mr. Preston's 
generosity, he said, some years ago: "I have en- 
deavored to requite his kindness by sending him works 
of mine, equal in money value to his gifts; but I can 
never extinguish my great obligations. I fear he don't 
like me since the war — for I could not suppress my 
strong national feelings for any man's friendship — 
but I like and honor him : J would do anything 



310 SELF-MADE MEN. 

in my power to show him my inextinguishable grati- 
tude." 

He reached Florence in advance of his models, and 
while waiting for them made two busts, one of a pro- 
fessor in Harvard College, ~nd the other of an Amen 
can lady. A severe domestic affliction, however, 
which came upon him soon after his arrival in Italy, 
affected him so greatly that he was not able to return 
to his work for a long time. Then he applied himself 
to his busts, which were warmly praised by the artists 
in Florence and by his countrymen traveling abroad. 
Thorwaldsen visited him in his studio, and pronounced 
his bust of Webster the best work of its kind in mod- 
ern times, and praises from other distinguished artists 
were equally as warm. Orders came in rapidly from 
English and Italians, and from Americans in Europe, 
and the sculptor soon had as much business as he 
could attend to. He gave his leisure time to work on 
an ideal figure, which, when completed, was purchased 
by an English gentleman of wealth. This was " The 
Greek Slave 7 " tiie most popular of all his works. 
Duplicates of if were exhibited in America and at the 
Crystal Palace in England, and won him praise from 
all quarters. This single work established his fame as 
an artist, and brought him orders from all parts of the 
civ'lized * irld. His statue of " Eve," which had 



HIRAM POWERS. 311 

preceded " The Greek Slave " by a year, had been pro- 
nounced by Thorwaldsen fit to be any man's master- 
piece, but it had not created such a furore as " The 
Greek Slave." Subsequently he made an exquisite 
bust of the Grand Duchess of Tuscany, with which 
the Grand Duke was so pleased that he called on 
Powers, and asked him as a favor to himself to apply 
to him whenever he could do him a service. Powers 
asked permission to take a cast of the Venus, and this 
much-coveted boon, which had been denied to other 
artists for years, was at once granted to him. 

Since then his works have been numerous. Among 
these are " The Fisher Boy," of which three duplicates 
in marble have been made; " II Penseroso; " " Proser- 
pine," a bust; " California; " " America," modeled for 
the Crystal Palace at Sydenham, England; " Washing- 
ton " and " Calhoun," portrait statues, the former for 
the State of Louisiana, and the latter for the State 
of South Carolina; and "Benjamin Franklin" and 
" Thomas Jefferson," in the Capitol at Washington. 
His works are all marked by beauty and vigor of con- 
ception as well as by exquisite finish. Beautiful as his 
ideal figures are, he yet excels in his busts and statues 
of the great men of his native land. His "Jefferson " 
and " Franklin " are wonderful works, and his " Cal- 
houn " is said to be almost life-like. This last was 



312 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



wrecked on the coast of Long Island on its voyage to 
America, and remained in the sea for some time, but 
being well packed, was found, when raised, to be only 
slightly damaged by the water. 

Mr. Powers resided in Italy for many years, and his 
studio was a favorite resort of young artists. 

He died several years ago, revered and honored by 
the whole world. 





JAY GOULD. 



JAY GOULD, 



THE OUTCOME OF A CAPITAL OF'50 CENTS. 

"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have 
greatness thrust upon them." — Shakespeare. 

N most of the countries of Europe, and especially 
in England, great wealth, when uninherited, is, 
as a general thing, realized through the slow and 
patient channels of some trade or calling. This, 
doubtless, is owing to the fact, that the natural re- 
sources of these countries are mainly developed to 
their utmost capacity, and that so narrow are their 
boundaries, individually, as well as their ideas of gov- 
ernment, the spirit of enterprise can find no resting 
place for the sole of its foot among the impoverished 
masses of their dense populations. 

When, however, we come to contrast this undesira- 
ble state of things with the condition of affairs within 



316 SELF-MADE MEN. 

the boundaries of our own vast commonwealth, we 
are at once struck with the magnitude of their dis- 
similarity. 

Here a newly created world, so to speak, possessed 
of wealth far exceeding that of " Ormus, and of Ind," 
and teeming with all the resources necessary to our 
greatness and happiness, lies spread out before us in 
boundless expanses, presenting to every species of 
enterprise fields for operation so filled with promise, 
and of such gigantic magnitude, that those of the Old 
World are dwarfed into utter insignificance before 
them. Under such circumstances it is not a matter 
of surprise that our vast resources are becoming rap- 
idly developed, that cities and civilizations are now 
being scattered through regions not long since sacred 
to the foot of the red man, and that constantly in 
our midst some adventurous and far-seeing spirit leaps 
from out the masses, and, at a single bound, as it 
were, attains to colossal wealth and importance. 

There is no stronger case in point touching this lat- 
ter relation than that presented by the gentleman 
whose name appears at the head of this article, and 
who has for some time past commanded so large a 
share of the public attention with regard to the bold- 
ness and magnitude of his operations in some of the 
leading interests of our economy. 



JAY GOULD. 317 

Jay Gould was born in Roxbury, Delaware County, 
a rude part of Western New York, May 27, 1837 ; so 
he is not yet 46. Indeed, his coal-black beard and 
hair, which, though thin, is scarcely touched with gray, 
indicate a man below middle life. 

His father, John B. Gould, was a poor farmer, and 
could scarcely earn enough to support his large fam- 
ily in the simplest style. The boy was the youngest, 
and, when at the age of 10 or 12 his great thirst for 
knowledge developed, his elder sisters, young ladies 
of considerable culture, became his teachers. Young 
Gould, however, early betrayed symptoms of genius 
and self-reliance, for he had scarcely got well into his 
school days till he regarded himself already a man, 
and invented a mouse trap. This latter has been 
considered by some as either a bitter sarcasm upon 
the unwieldy dimensions of the great, square, unsight- 
ly white frame house in which he was born, or a 
graphic foreshadowing of his subsequent operations 
in Wall street. 

His boyhood in Roxbury was about the same as 
that of other boys roundabout. He worked around 
the farm, planting and hoeing, going to district school 
some, doing chores and milking cows nights, and 
about the most vivid memory of that time is of an 
old brindle cow that he tried to milk. She kicked 



318 SELF-MADE MEN. 

him in the most skillful manner, and he turned a com- 
plete somerset in the yard. " It seems funnier now 
than it did then," he said. 

The growing boy studied nights, read all the books 
he could get in that sparsely-settled country, and at 
the age of fourteen appealed to his father to send him 
to the academy in the adjoining town. His father 
could not afford it. The boy thought it over deliber- 
ately, felt that his study of mathematics, now beyond 
the instruction of Roxbury, must be gratified some- 
how, and resolved to go to the academy and pay his 
own expenses. He asked his father's permission. 
" Of course you can go if you want to/' was the nat- 
ural reply; " you ain't good for much here." It was 
the solemn truth. Jay had already discovered 
that he was not born to be a farmer — by a large 
majority. 

The next morning the ambitious youth hastily rose 
from the breakfast-table, held out his hand to his sur- 
prised father, and said " Good-by." There were tears, 
entreaties, warnings, but he burst away, seized his 
little bundle of clothes, and started afoot through the 
wild and sparsely-settled regions over the mountains 
to Hobart Academy, with 50 cents in his pocket. 
Thirty-two years later, being charged with treacher- 
ously selling out his associates, he laid upon a table 



JAY GOULD. 319 

stocks and bonds of his own of the value of $35,000,- 
000. 

Arrived at Hobart, and canvassing the town for 
work, he got a chance to keep books for the village 
blacksmith, who had started a little store next to the 
shop. This helped him out. He spent mornings and 
evenings with the son of Vulcan and paid his way at 
school. He rested little, played little, talked little, 
worked hard, -like Napoleon at the artillery school at 
Brienne. He made surprising progress. In six 
months he had learned what the academy had to 
teach and left it. He left the village blacksmith too, 
and entered a hardware store as clerk, devoting his 
evenings to a systematic study of trigonometry and 
surveying. He rose at 4 in the morning and gave 
three hours to book and slate. He borrowed an old 
compass and a set of surveying tools, and, inducing 
the boys of the village to become his flag and chain 
bearers by presenting to them toys of his own manu- 
facture, he succeeded in learning practical surveying 
" without a master." 

At the same time he applied himself to the hard- 
ware business so energetically that at the age of 15 
the little prodigy was made full partner and intrusted 
with the entire charge of the business. He came to 
New York for the first time in his life, and was able 



220 SELF-MADE MEN. 

to open accounts with Phelps, Dodge & Co., and other 
heavy houses. But he had not yet found his career. 
The hardware trade was not congenial, and the same 
year, 1852, he slipped out, left his little capital behind, 
put his father in his place, and engaged to take charge 
of a surveying party at $20 a month, to complete the 
map of Ulster County. He organized his party, and 
started with five dollars in his pocket; walked 40 
miles the first day, and worked a fortnight, when his 
employer suddenly " failed " before he had paid them 
a cent. Gould at once resolved to carry out the sur- 
vey himself. What now happened to the 15-year old 
boy is best told in Mr. Gould's own words : 

" I was out of money, that is to say, all I had was 
a 10-cent piece, and with that last coin I determined 
not to part. (I did not part with it and never shall ; I 
keep it now as a memento.) Fall was approaching, 
and unless our surveys were finished before winter set 
in they would be postponed until the next spring, sub- 
jecting us to additional expense, and perhaps causing 
their abandonment. I determined to go ahead if pos- 
sible. But how? I had neither time nor money to 
go back to Delaware County for supplies. I was 
among entire strangers and without credit. I could 
neither advance nor retreat without money, and so 



JAY GOULD 321 

deeply did I deplore the ruin of our project that I shed 
tears. 

" Tired out by my last day's tramp, hungry, and de- 
jected, I was resting in a rocky nook near the town of 
Shawaugunk, my tears trickling down on the face of 
the compass, when I was suddenly hailed by a farmer, 
who asked me to go home with him and make a noon- 
mark — a north and south line so drawn that the shad- 
ow of an upright object falling upon it will indicate 
midday. I was asked to take dinner first, and joy- 
fully accepted, as I had supped on two small crackers 
the previous night, and had been hard at work since 
daylight, and felt exceedingly faint. After a hearty 
dinner I made the noon-mark, and was about to bid 
the hospitable farmer good-by, when he asked what I 
charged for the work. I said I charged nothing — he 
was welcome to it; but he offered me half a dollar, 
insisting that it was the price a neighbor had paid for 
one. I accepted the money and departed rejoicing. 
If I had discovered a new continent I would not have 
been more elated, for, with 60 cents in my pocket and 
the prospect of making other noon-marks along the 
route, I saw a way to carry my enterprise through. I 
can never forget that day. From that time forward 
the fame of my noon-marks preceded me. Applica- 



322 SELF-MADE MEN. 

tions came in from the farmers all around, and out of 
this new source of supply I paid all the expenses of 
my surveys and came out at the completion with $6 in 
my pocket." 

A respectable sum was received from the map. 
Young Gould now became a professional surveyor 
and civil engineer. He mapped Albany, Ulster, 
Greene, and Delaware Counties, in New York, Lake 
and Geauga Counties in Ohio, and Oakland County 
in Michigan ; made the surveys for a plank road and 
a railroad ; wrote and published a history of Dela- 
ware County ; started a tannery, where he employed 
250 men ; built a town (Gouldsboro) ; and established 
a bank, and carried it through the panic of 1857, be- 
fore he was 21. 

He sold an interest in his town for $80,000, and 
invested the money in depreciated railroad securities 
after the panic. Soon after this he secured a con- 
trolling interest in two railroads, and it was not long 
before he embarked all his fortunes in the Erie, with 
what success is well known. With herculean energy 
he has reached ou^t and gathered in the reins of trans- 
portation dropped by other hands, till now he is the 
central figure of 30,000 miles of railroad communica- 
tion, and the most potent financial genius in the Re- 
public. 



JAY GOULD. 323 

His present quarrel with the Mutual Union Tele- 
graph, undertaken in behalf of his pet, the Western 
Union, is said to worry Mr. Gould more than any- 
thing else he has recently done. He is surprised to 
see the new company develop such fighting qualities, 
and he has been templed to do some things of the 
Jim Fisk order that are not regarded as quite square 
by his associates, Cyrus Field, Dr. Green, Gen. Eck- 
ert, and men sensitive to business honor — such as the 
recent breaking open and examining of John G. 
Moore's private papers during his absence from the 
city. 

Jay Gould is not " nice," but his quarrels do not 
rankle. Russel Sage said to me a fortnight ago : 
" Gould is one of the best-natured of men. After the 
failure of that persistent conspiracy to ruin him, in 
which his fingers certainly were pinched some, he was 
just as pleasant as ever with the parties to it ; he 
dealt with them as freely as ever, and gave them as 
many chances as anybody. But while the contest 
lasts he never lets up. The bears at present are not 
having a very good time in their dealings with him." 

Mr. Gould lives in an unpretentious but spacious 
mansion at the corner of Fifth avenue and Forty-sec- 
ond street in the winter time. His tastes are simple 
and democratic. His habits are thoroughly domestic. 



324 SELF-MADE MEN. 

He is not likely to die as Tom Scott died three years 
ago ; for he uses neither liquor nor tobacco, loves his 
family, retires at 10 and rises at 6. Mr. Gould has a 
fine library, with a choice selection of books, strong 
in the department of history, and he is a close student 
out of business hours. He is not a religious man, like 
Russel Sage, but goes to church sometimes. 

Mrs. Gould is a daughter of a Mr. Miller, a retired 
grocer of the city, and is a quiet, refined and interest- 
ing lady. There are six children, equally divided be- 
tween the sexes, and the three boys are all in business 
with their father. The eldest, George J. Gould, a 
youth of 22, is a member of the firm of W. E. Con- 
nor & Co., of which Mr. Morsini is also a member, 
and Jay Gould himself is special partner. Connor, 
by the way, known to his familiars as " Wash," began 
life as Mr. Gould's office-boy, and is now a million- 
aire — and more, too, 

The Gould summer-house is at " Lyndliurst," near 
Irvington, up the Hudson, and comprises about 6oo 
acres of beautiful land, and one of the finest conser- 
vatories and graperies in America. Rare plants and 
flowers have been sent to him from all parts of the 
world, until his place is stocked with the choice plants 
of every zone and meridian. Mr. Gould has made a 
close study of botany, and can call most of his plants 



JAY GOULD. 325 

by name. He has now in his gallery hundreds of val- 
uable paintings, his own taste running to modern art 
— the best works of the French masters — Meissonier, 
Millet, Delaroche, Bouguereau, Delacroix, etc. 

In his office he is very reserved and laconic. His 
associates and clerks have learned to read his mean- 
ing from a word or look. His mail is encumbered 
every day with scores of begging letters, which never 
reach him, but are destroyed by his secretary. He 
agrees with Russel Sage and other wealthy men that 
promiscuous charity is to be avoided, and he gives only 
to the best attested cases. During the yellow fever 
troubles he telegraphed to the Mayor of Memphis, 
" Draw on me for all the money you want." 

Mr. Gould seldom goes to balls ; doesn't care for 
general society ; avoids display , never reads novels ; 
spends most of his spare time in the large room that is 
walled up with 5,000 volumes of standard literature of 
a solid sort. 



THURLOW WEED 



FIFTY YEARS A JOURNALIST. 

Thurlow Weed, the Nestor of American journalists, 
was born on November 15, 1797, at Catskill, Greene 
County, N. Y., whither his parents had emigrated from 
Stamford, Conn., in the hopes of bettering their slen- 
der fortunes. Joel Weed, his father, was a worthy- 
honest, industrious carman, who, despite his best ef- 
forts, was often in jail for debt, and among the earliest 
boyish recollections of young Thurlow were his visits 
to his father when in confinement, or " on the limits." 
The boy, by the way, was originally named Edward 
Thurlow, after Edward Lord Thurlow, Chancellor of 
the Realm, but the Edward was soon dropped. There 
was little or no schooling for the children of the poor 
in the early days of the Republic, and young Thurlow 
at an early age was helping to earn money to support 
the family. He found occasional employment in run- 
ning errands and doing odd jobs, and when about 10 




THURLOW WEED. 



THURLOW WEED. 329 

years of age began to shift for himself. He became 
first a cabin-boy and then a deck hand on board the 
sloop Jefferson, and afterwards on the sloop Ranger. 
He spent an entire summer in this way, earning a few 
dollars a month, which were cheerfully sent home. 
After a year's cruising he abandoned the water, owing 
to attacks of vertigo whenever he attempted to mount 
the rigging. During his seaman life he first visited 
New York, and while there he earned his first shilling 
by carrying the trunk of one of the sloop passengers 
up Broad street to a hotel. In the winter of 1808 
Joel Weed moved his family further west, to Cincin- 
natus, Cortland County, N. Y. Young Thurlow went 
to work with a will at the new avocations before him, 
helping in the asheries, the tanneries, the logging, the 
fencing, the clearing, the plowing, and the other du- 
ties pertaining to farm life in that section. While 
here, Weed enjoyed the advantage of a few months' 
schooling in the rudiments at a little country school- 
house, and improved every opportunity to satisfy his 
growing passion for reading. In the winter of 1811 
he attained the height of his boyish ambition when 
his proffered services were accepted as an apprentice in 
the office of a small weekly newspaper called the Lynx, 
published by Theodore C. Fay, at Onondaga Hollow, 
Onondaga County, N. Y. At first the tall, strong awk- 



330 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ward boy was assigned to the laborious task of " tread- 
ing pelts " and pulling at the old Ramage press. But he 
soon rose from apprentice to journeyman, and trudg- 
ing on foot from town to town obtained employment 
in one printing-office after another. Among the 
various places at which he worked at the case or at 
the press were Onondaga Hollow, Manlius, Auburn, 
Geneva, Albany, New York, Herkimer, and Coopers- 
town. During the war of 1812, young Weed was in 
the army, having enlisted in a Herkimer County regi- 
ment under Col. Petrie, in 1813. He was shortly 
after made Quartermaster-Sergeant, and spent several 
months in camp life at Sackett's Harbor, N. Y. After 
the war he was employed in various offices in Franklin 
Square and Pearl Street, in New York, at one time be- 
ing a fellow-workman with James Harper, the late 
head of the great publishing house. Mr. Weed was 
an excellent, industrious workman, whose dissipations 
were confined to the theater — he was passionately 
fond of the drama — and a stroll upon the Battery, the 
then fashionable resort. Here he became acquainted 
by sight with the leading personages of the metro- 
polis, and soon came to know the men who played a 
prominent part in political life. He had a natural 
proclivity toward politics, as he had toward the print- 
ing office. He was an active worker at local meet- 



THURLOW WEED. 331 

ings and at the polls on election days, although de- 
prived himself of the right of suffrage on account of 
the property qualification for voters. In April, 1818, 
Mr. Weed married Miss Catherine M. Ostrander, of 
Cooperstown, N. Y., a woman of remarkably good 
sense and prudence, industry, religious principles, 
and domestic habits, whose thrift did much to build 
up a competence out of her husband's slender in- 
come. 

His marriage led Mr. Weed to look for higher and 
more remunerative employment. He now aspired to 
be an editor. His first connection with the press as 
an editor was in Chenango County, where he started 
the weekly Republican Agriculturist, in December, 
1818. It was Clintonian in politics, and supported 
the project of constructing the Erie Canal. In 182 1, 
he purchased an interest in the Manlius Times, which 
he sold out a year or two later. Going to Rochester 
he secured the position of assistant editor on the 
Rochester Telegraph. The entire control of the pa- 
per was soon left in his hands, and by his tact and ad- 
dress in political writing and management he rose 
rapidly in the esteem of the citizens of that town, so 
that when Rochester felt the need of a bank, Mr. 
Weed was unanimously chosen to go to Albany to get 
the necessary charter. His mission was so satisfactory 



332 SELF-MADE MEN. 

that in 1824 Rochester sent him to the State As- 
sembly. During his single year's service in the Legis- 
lature he displayed the skill for political manipulation, 
which characterized his after-life. It is claimed that 
through his management the legislative caucus, which 
was expected to choose Electors favorably to Gen. 
Jackson under party pressure, were supplied with a 
mixed ticket, enabling them to follow their own in- 
clinations, and ohose Electors whose votes were cast 
as follows : Adams, 26 ; Crawford, 5 ; Clay, 4; Jack- 
son, 1. Returning to Rochester he became editor 
and half owner of the Telegraph, whose circulation 
and influence was steadily increasing. The myster- 
ious disappearance of Capt. William Morgan and the 
anti-Masonic craze which followed the alleged Ma- 
sonic murder suddenly became important factors in 
Mr. Weed's life. He took the anti-Masonic side, and 
in the hight of the excitement the Telegraph went 
went down through the withdrawal of all Masonic 
support. 

The anti-Masonic party soon began not only to 
nominate, but elect public officers in the west- 
ern part of the State. Their success then filled them 
with hopes of political ascendancy in the State and 
perhaps in the Nation. One of the first needs of 
the new party was an organ at the State Capital, 



THURLOW WEED. S33 

where it had already had a respectable representa- 
tion in the Legislature. By general consent Thurlow 
Weed was chosen to conduct this paper. The neces- 
sary fund as easily raised, and on March 22, 1830,. 
the first number of the Albany Evening Journal ap- 
peared. Before the Spring was over the paper was- 
acknowledged to be the organ of the Anti- Masonic: 
party. At that time Mr. Weed constituted the staff off 
the paper. He was editor-in-chief, managing editor,, 
news editor, local reporter, legislative reporter, and! 
proof reader. This work occupied his days. Hi& 
evenings were spent in political consultations. 

The panic of 1837, growing out of the financial and 
commercial policy of Jackson and Van Buren, as was 
claimed, gave the Whigs the wished-for opportunity 
of overthrowing the Regency and securing control 
of |New York. In 1838, Seward and Bradish, the 
Whig candidates, were elected Governor and Lieu- 
tenant-Governor, and the Whigs had a majority in the 
State Assembly. As the party gained in power 
and prestige, Mr. Weed found the field of his labors 
vastly enlarged. Formerly he had been organizing 
and building up a minority party, now he was the 
acknowledged leader of a party in control of the State 
Government and marching steadily on to the control of 
National affairs. So accustomed had the party grown 



334 SELF-MADE MEN. 

to rely on the guidance of the Evening Journal and its 
editor that the politicians of the State were in constant 
consultation with Mr. Weed, who was already called 
" the Dictator," " the Warwick," " the Old Man," etc. 

It is doubtful if any one man ever had such com- 
plete control of a party or had his advice so implic- 
itly followed by its members as Mr. Weed in his rela- 
tions to the Whig party. 

The great secret of his sway undoubtedly was his 
disinterestedness. He sought no office for himself 
and would take none. Among the qualities which 
peculiarly marked Mr. Weed's career was his pene- 
tration of character displayed in his admirable selec- 
tion of the right men for the right places. In 1838 
the Whig Central Committee desiring to publish a 
campaign political paper, Mr. Weed went to New 
York in seach of an editor and returned with Horace 
Greeley, who edited Xhzjeffersonian in that campaign 
and the Log Cabin in the Presidential contest of 1840. 

Mr. Weed was a thorough journalist and a " practical 
politician," of unerring memory, proverbial tact, mi- 
raculous intuitions, and great mastery over men. He 
preferred to be the power behind the throne rather than 
the semblance of power on the throne. He was re- 
peatedly urged to run for offices, ranging from Vice- 
President down to Mayor of Albany, but invariably 



THURLOW WEED. 335 

declined. Three times he was offered the English 
Mission by three different Presidents whom he had 
helped elect. Mr. Weed took a prominent part in the 
Harrisburg Convention and urged the selection of 
Gen. Harrison, in opposition to the desfres of Henry 
Clay's friends. The popular whirlwind of " hard cider 
and log cabin" times which swept the country for 
" Tippecanoe and Tyler too " proved the wisdom of 
the choice. Mr. Weed's suggestion in regard to Cab- 
inet officers and other prominent appointments were 
listened to with favor by Gen. Harrison, who made 
Francis Granger, of New York, his Postmaster-Gen- 
eral, and would doubtless have dispensed the Federal 
patronage in New York, largely according to Mr. 
Weed's desires. But the Whig triumph was short- 
lived, as President Harrison died a few weeks after 
his inauguration. 

In 1843, Mr. Weed made his first trip to Europe, re- 
maining abroad some months and describing his trav- 
els in letters to the Journal, which were widely copied. 
The year 185 1, brought to Mr. Weed a sad domestic 
affliction in the death of his only son. He went to 
Europe again early in the Winter, spending several 
months abroad in general travel. 

The first Republican National Convention at Phila- 
delphia, in 1856, when Senator Seward was suggested 



336 SELF-MADE MEN. 

on all sides as the proper candidate, Mr. Weed, un- 
willing to risk a defeat of his favorite at such a time, 
induced the New York delegation to go for Gen. Fre- 
mont, and act which led to his nomination. The suc- 
cess of the Republicans in New York was instantan- 
eous. Gen. Fremont had 80,000 majority in the State. 
John A. King was elected Governor, and the party 
controlled the Legislature. Weed's first choice for 
President was his best and life-long friend, William 
H Seward. To put him in at the head of the Chicago 
ticket he devoted all his extraordinary abilities. The 
Republicans of New York were a unitYor their " favorite 
son," and so well were all the plans laid that Mr. 
Weed did not consider defeat a possibility. Yet 
speaking, of the actual result, a short time since, he 
said it seemed to him like a special stroke of Provi- 
dence for the good of the United States. When the 
balloting commenced on the third day of the conven- 
tion Seward's friends were disappointed to find Penn- 
sylvania, where Seward was strong, and where Camer- 
on had led Seward's friends to expect his support, 
going against him. The subsequent change of Penn- 
sylvania from Cameron to Lincoln carried the nomi- 
nation of the " Rail-Splitter" on the third ballot. 
Mr. Weed, it is needless to say, was greatly disap- 
pointed at the defeat of Seward. Immediately after 



THURLOW WEED. 337 

the nomination, while annoyed and dejected, and 
about to leave Chicago, David Davis and Leonard 
Swett, who had worked zealously for Lincoln, came 
to Mr. Weed's room to converse with him about the 
approaching canvass. He frankly informed them 
that he was so greatly disappointed at the action of 
the convention that he was unable to talk or think on 
the subject, and was going to Iowa for a few days. 
At their request he stopped at Springfield on his way 
home and had an interview with Lincoln. Of this 
meeting Mr. Weed afterward wrote : " I had met Lin- 
coln in the fall of 1848, when he took the stump in 
New England. He displayed throughout the conver- 
sation so much good sense, intuitive knowledge of 
human nature, and such familiarity with the virtues 
and infirmities of politicians, that I became impressed 
very favorably with his fitness for the duties which he 
was not unlikely to be called upon to discharge. The 
conversation lasted five hours, and when the train ar- 
rived on which we were to depart I was all the better 
prepared to go to work with a will in favor of Mr. 
Lincoln's election, as the interview had inspired me 
with confidence in his capacity and integrity. " Di- 
rectly after the convention the Journal did not place 
the Chicago ticket at the head of its editorial columns. 
When the result of the Presidential contest was 



338 SELF-MADE MEN. 

kncrwn Mr. Weed was pressed to visit Mr. Lincoln 
for the purpose of advising him on the formation of 
the Cabinet. At this meeting he first learned what 
inducement had swayed the Pennsylvania delegation 
to vote against Seward. There were a number of 
leading Republicans present, and, after discussion, all 
the Cabinet positions were agreed on except that of 
Secretary of the Treasury. Nothing being said about 
the place, Mr. Weed asked who was to have that de- 
partment, and was surprised to hear that it was re- 
served for Simon Cameron. Some objections to this 
designation being made, the slate was revised, and 
Cameron was put down for the War Department. 
Between the President and Mr. Weed a strong attach- 
ment grew up, and at various critical junctures in the 
struggle the President entrusted the journalist with 
missions of the most delicate and important nature. 
Just before the outbreak of the War one of the duties 
intrusted to him was to secure the influence of the 
New York Herald oxi the side of the administration. 
The sympathies of that paper were with the South; 
and its opposition to Lincoln encouraged the Rebel- 
lion and strengthened the Rebel cause. With its large 
circulation in Europe the H 'er aid was creating a dan- 
gerous public sentiment abroad, and the necessity of 



THURLOW WEED. 339> 

securing a change of policy, was considered at a Cab- 
inet meeting, at which it was decided that Mr. Weed 
should be asked to undertake the task. Although he 
and Mr. Bennett had not spoken to one another for 
thirty years, Mr. Weed at the urgent request of Presi- 
dent Lincoln sent word that he wished to see Mr. 
Bennett, and was invited to visit him at Washington 
Heights. 

The two editors sat long at table, and, although 
nothing was said directly about the policy of the Her- 
ald, Mr. Weed put the situation so forcibly, appealing 
to Mr. Bennett's judgment and to his sense of duty* 
as an influential journalist, to the Government and 
the Union, that the Herald came out the next day as. 
a strong Union paper. Shortly after this episode Mr. 
Weed's mission to England and France was under- 
taken. It was deemed important by Mr. Lincoln that 
some gentleman of experience and intelligence, pos- 
sessing a thorough knowledge of all the circumstances 
which preceded and occasioned the Rebellion, should 
be sent abroad to disabuse the public mind of false- 
impressions, especially in England and France, where 
numerous agents of secession had been at work in 
quarters too ready to accept versions of the existing 
dispute unfavorable to the North. Mr. Weed was in- 



340 SELF-MADE MEN. 

duced to accept this task, and set sail with Archbishop 
Hughes as a fellow Commissioner in the Africa, on 
Nov. 6, 1861. 

The news of the taking of Mason and Slidell was 
brought to Europe by the steamer which followed the 
Africa on which Mr. Weed and the Archbishop sailed. 
The feeling in England and France, as well as in this 
country, was such that the danger of war was most 
imminent. Antecedents and traditions led us to hope 
for sympathy in France, and to apprehend hostility in 
England. But with the exception of the Prince Na- 
poleon, who, as Mr. Weed relates, was friendly to us, 
the French were opposed, at this time, to the Union. 
The Trent affair occurring as it did at a most critical 
moment, united " all England * for war. It was felt 
that unless the Confederate Commissioners, Mason 
and Slidell, were released, that war was inevitable. 
While matters stood in this uncertain shape Mr. Weed 
met Mr. McCullogh Torrens in London the next 
morning after his arrival, early in December, 1861. 
The introduction was at the hands of Mr. Peabody, 
the eminent philanthropist, who was an old friend of 
Mr. Weed's. Mr. Torrens said that the arrival of 
Mr. Weed was most opportune. He must see Earl 
Russell immediately. Mr. Weed replied that Mr. 
Adams, then our Minister, would present him to the 



THURLOW WEED. 341 

Earl as soon as practicable. " That will not do," said 
Mr. Torrens. " Time presses, you must see the Earl 
to-morrow," adding that he would arrange an audie nc e 
and let Mr. Weed know the time and place that even- 
ing. Mr. Weed was surprised at the warm interest 
manifested by an Englishman and a stranger, and 
doubtful as to the propriety of anticipating the kind 
intentions of Mr. Adams, but that gentleman relieved 
his doubt and advised him by all means to avail him- 
self of this timely offer. Mr. Weed dined that day 
with Sir J. Emerson Tennent, meeting a large and 
what proved to be a war party of gentlemen, among 
them the Colonel of a regiment which was to leave 
London the next morning to embark at Liverpool for 
Canada. The Colonel was toasted, and in response 
made a brief but exciting war speech, dwelling with 
much effect upon the duty of Englishmen to resent 
the insult to their flag. Mr. Weed was seated at the 
table next to Lord Paget, of the Admiralty, who in- 
formed him that their preparations for war were active 
and formidable, and that for the first time since 1815 
they were working " double-handed " night and day 
in the dock-yards. In passing by the famous London 
Tower Mr. Weed had himself heard that day the 
clanking of arms that were in process of shipment for 
instant service. Returning to his hotel after dinner 



34:2 SELF-MADE MEN. 

he found Mr. Torrens, who directed him to leave the 
city the next morning at n o'clock, and drive to Pem- 
broke Lodge, Earl Russell's country seat. Mr. Weed 
found the Minister the next day alone, and was cour- 
teously received. Conversation was at first embar- 
rassed by an evident determination on Earl Russell's 
part to ignore all other questions until the honor of 
England should be satisfied by the surrender of Mason 
and Slidell. Gradually, however, the restraint passed 
away, and his Lordship explained the circumstances 
which led to the Queen's proclamation giving bellig- 
erent rights to the Rebel States. He had come to the 
conclusion that the North was the real aggressor. 
After an hour and a half's conversation, during which 
Mr. Weed endeavored to remove that impression, 
lunch was announced, and the conversation became 
general. In the drawing-room, after the Earl had 
conversed aside with Lady Russell for a few minutes, 
Mr. Weed was about to take leave, when Lady Rus- 
sell interrupted, saying : " You must not go without 
seeing the Lodge grounds," in walking through which 
her Ladyship pointed out various objects with which 
history had made her visitor familiar. In the course 
of the walk she remarked that ladies, of course, knew 
nothing of State secrets, but that they had ears, and 
sometimes heard things not perhaps intended for 



THURLOW WEED. 343 

them, adding that it would probably relieve Mr- 
Weed's anxiety to know that in our difficulties the 
sympathies of the Queen were with the United States; 
that her Majesty remembered the attentions extended 
to her son, the Prince of Wales, and would do every- 
thing in her power to prevent a rupture with America. 
With this gleam of hope Mr. Weed returned to his 
hotel well satisfied with his visit to the Minister. 

While waiting with the most intense solicitude for 
the decision of our Government upon the demand for 
the surrender of the Confederate Commissioners, Mr» 
Weed received from his friend, the Hon. Arthur Kin- 
naird, M. P., in the strictest confidence positive evi- 
dence that the Queen had at the right moment caused 
the dispatch demanding the surrender of Mason and 
Slidell to be so modified as to render a compliance 
with it less difficult to Mr. Lincoln. Several days 
after receiving this information, confirming the assur- 
ance of Lady Russell, Mr. Weed received additional 

I 
evidence from another high source, the honored and 

lamented Sir Henry Holland, physician to the Queen, 
who was a daily visitor at Mr. Weed's lodgings, and 
often afterward, on his visits to New York, was a wel- 
come guest at Mr. Weed's residence. Sir Henry had 
been informed by the Queen what occurred between 
her Majesty, Lord Palmerston, and Prince Albert, 



34:4: SELF-MADE MEN. 

when the dispatch demanding the surrender was 
brought to Windsor for approval. Whatever passes 
between the Queen and her Ministers, while a question 
is under consideration, is in its nature confidential, 
and Mr, Weed never felt that he was at liberty to 
make a full revelation of the facts within his knowl- 
edge, except to a few friends and members of his fam- 
ily. It is enough, perhaps, to know that on three 
occasions during the first year of the Rebellion her 
Majesty contributed essentially to the preservation of 
peace between this country and England, and that on 
two occasions she discountenanced suggestions from 
the French Government which meant war. When the 
consultation at Windsor Castle above referred to took 
place the Prince Consort, at the Queen's suggestion, 
made certain interlineations in the dispatch to Mr. 
Seward, which was, so Sir Henry informed Mr. Weed, 
"the last time that the Prince used his pen. " The 
conflict between the Rebels and the Government at 
Washington was formidable enough, as we all realize 
now, without the aggravations of a simultaneous con- 
flict with England and France. The French Emperor 
was unquestionably in favor of the Southern States, 
and desired to aid them even at the expense of a war 
with our Government. As soon as the tempest in 
England began to subside, Mr. Weed hastened to 



THURLOW WEED. 345 

Paris, with Gen. Winfield Scott as a fellow-passenger 
On the way the thought occurred to him that a bold, 
frank letter on the American question, signed by the 
General, would have great weight. As soon as they 
reached Paris the letter was prepared and published 
at once in all the leading French and English news- 
papers. 

From Prince Napoleon Mr. Weed received atten- 
tion. The Prince, differing widely and boldly from 
the Emperor, was the warm friend of our Government, 
and sought to serve us. Mr. Weed was instant in sea- 
son and out of season in explaining and defending the 
cause of his country, and it was largely due to his 
skillful and indefatigable efforts that the attempt to 
unite France and England against the cause of the 
Union failed. He induced the Emperor to alter a 
paragraph in his speech to the French National Legis- 
lature in January, 1862, so that instead of expressing 
a bitter opposition to the Union, as he had intended, 
he spoke of it in a friendly tone. Prince Napoleon 
was .out of favor with " the nephew of his uncle " be- 
cause of his pronounced sympathy for the North ; 
accordingly Mr. Weed worked upon the Emperor 
through Prince de Morny, his brother. 

The Prince de Morny based his opposition to the 
Union cause largely, if not entirely, on the fact that 



346 SELF-MADE MEN. 

Charleston Harbor was obstructed. He denounced 
the obstruction as an outrage without precedent, which 
wrought great injury to the commercial interests of 
France, since it interrupted the exports of cotton to 
that country. Mr. Weed, when the Prince had fin- 
ished his protest, proceeded to turn the tables on him 
by quoting from the treaty of Utrecht, which provided 
that the fortification of the city of Dunkirk should be 
razed, the harbor filled up, and the sluices which 
served to cleanse it leveled, and this, too, at the 
French King's expense ! In the account which he 
subsequently gave of his coup d'etat, Mr. Weed wrote 
of the effect of his reference to the treaty of Dunkirk 
as follows : " When the Count had read the article 
over twice very attentively I observed that he would 
find by referring to the history of that day that Hol- 
land, an ally of England in the war which ended with 
this treaty, complained two years afterward that its 
terms had not been complied with, inasmuch as the 
fortification and harbor had been but partially de- 
stroyed, while the article referred to called for their 
entire demolition. Yet Dunkirk at this day, instead 
of being (what it would have been but for the treaty 
of Utrecht) a large and prosperous commercial city, 
is wholly unused as a harbor, and utterly insignificant 
as a town. De Morny, after a pause, remarked that 



THURLOW WEED. 347 

he was to accompany the Minister of Foreign Affairs 
(M. Thouvenel) to the Tuileries on the following 
evening, when the Emperor's speech would be read to 
them. . . . When the Emperor's speech was 
printed the passage relating to America was an amica- 
ble instead of a hostile one." The value of the ser- 
vices to the Union cause which Mr. Weed rendered 
in this connection can not be too highly estimated. 

On his return from Europe in 1862 the gratitude 
of New York for what he had done for his country 
took the shape of a formal presentation to him of the 
freedom of the city, and several of his more intimate 
friends united in presenting him with a costly memo- 
rial in silver, which is one of the most precious heir- 
looms in the family. 

In January, 1863, Mr. Weed dissolved his connec- 
tion with the Albany Journal, both as editor and pro- 
prietor. In his valedictory, which appears in the is- 
sue for January 28, he frankly stated the reason which 
induced him to take the step. " We have fallen in 
evil times," he said. " Our country is in immediate 
and imminent danger. I differ widely with my party 
about the best means of crushing the Rebellion. The 
difference is radical and irreconcilable. I can neither 
impress others with my views nor surrender my own 
solemn convictions. The alternative of living in 



348 SELF-MADE MEN, 

strife with those whom I have esteemed or withdraw- 
ing is presented. I have not hesitated in choosing the 
path of peace as the path of duty. If those who dif- 
fer from me are right, and the country is safely carried 
through its present struggle, all will be well and no- 
body hurt. . . . But for an infirm leg and a 
broken arm, I would go into the army, for the country 
is entitled to the service of all its citizens ; and it is 
more a privilege than a duty to defend a Government 
under whose beneficent sway and benign rule we haye 
enjoyed protection, prosperity and happiness, and in 
the destruction of which the best hopes of the highest 
civilization perish." 

Since the close of the war Mr. Weed has lived in 
retirement in New York, but has maintained a lively 
interest in all public questions, and has frequently fa- 
vored the metropolitan press with his views on the 
topics of the day, and with reminiscenses. In 1872 
he returned to active politics for a brief time, and 
showed that his name had not lost its old-time cun- 
ning by springing the name of Gen. John A. Dix on 
the Republican State Convention and securing his 
nomination for Governor by a skillfully planned stam- 
pede. The wisdom of his selection was demonstrated 
by the triumphant election of the whole Republican 
ticket. On March 22, 1880, he once more assumed 



THURLOW WEED. 



349 



the editorship of the Journal— for one day — on the 
occasion of the celebration of the fiftieth anniversary 
of its foundation. He leaves three daughters, Mrs. 
William Barnes, of Albany, N. Y.; Mrs. James Aldenj. 
of Morrisania, N. Y.; and Miss Harriet Weed, who 
has been his constant companion since the death of 
his wife, about thirty years ago. He leaves an estate 
estimated at over one million of dollars. 




&b# 



^^SSSSASSSASSSS 4a«#>^«& 



.<ry-N 





ULES FOR 




EHAVIOR. 




RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 




ETIQUETTE. 

[f^TIQUETTE is, in point of fact, nothing more 
nor less than the law, written and unwritten, 
which regulates the society of civilized people, 
distinguishing them from the communities of barbar- 
ous tribes, whose lives are hard and their manners 
still harder. It is to a well disciplined and refined 
mind the fundamental principle of action in all inter- 
course with society, and they are interested in main- 
taining it in its integrity, and bound to heed and obey 
its simplest as well as more formal precepts. 

Etiquette, like every other human institution, is of 
course liable to abuse; it may be transformed from a 
convenient and wholesome means of producing uni- 
versal comfort into an inconvenient and burdensome 
restraint upon freedom and ease. 



354 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

Etiquette, to be perfect, must be like a perfectly 
fitting garment, which, beautifying and adorning the 
person, mast yet never cramp or restrain perfect free- 
dom of movement. 

Most people have heard of the gentleman (?) who 
was perfect in his knowledge of the laws of etiquette, 
and who, seeing a man drowning, took off his coat and 
was about to plunge into the water to rescue him, 
when he suddenly remembered that he had never been 
introduced to the struggling victim, and resuming his 
coat, tranquilly proceeded upon his way. Too rigid 
an observance of the laws of etiquette makes them an 
absurdity and a nuisance. 

Good breeding is, as Lord Chesterfield well says, 
" the result of much good sense, some good nature, 
and a little self-denial for the sake of others, and with 
a view to obtain the same indulgence from them." 

Lord Bacon, in his admirable essay on Ceremonies, 
says: " Not to use ceremonies at all, is to teach others 
not to use them again, and so diminisheth respect to 
himself; especially they be not to be omitted to 
strangers and formal natures; but the dwelling upon 
them, and exalting them above the moon is not only 
tedious, but doth diminish the faith and credit of him 
that speaks. 

To quote again from Lord Chesterfield, " Good 



ETIQUETTE. 355 

sense and good nature suggest civility in general; but 
in good breeding there are a thousand little delicacies 
which are established only by custom." 

It is precisely these " little delicacies " which con- 
stitute the difference between politeness and etiquette, 
politeness is that inborn regard for others which may 
Uwell in the heart of the most ignorant boor, but 
etiquette is a code of outward laws which must be 
learned by the resident in good society, either from 
observation or the instruction of others. 

It is a poor argument used against etiquette that it 
is not truthful, and that uncouth manners are more 
frank and sincere than polished and refined ones. Is 
truth then a hedgehog, always bristling and offensive. 
Cannot truth be spoken in courteous accents from a 
kind, gentle impulse, as well as blurted out rudely and 
giving pain and mortification ? It is true that rough- 
ness and sincerity often abide together, but would it 
destroy the honesty to polish away the roughness ? 

True politeness must come from the heart, from an 
unselfish desire to please others and contribute to 
their happiness; when upon this natural impulse is 
placed the polish of a complete and thorough knowl- 
edge of the laws of etiquette, the manners must be 
perfect and graceful. 

An English author says: " Etiquette may be defined 



356 . RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

as the minor morality of life. No observances, how- 
ever minute, that tend to spare the feelings of others, 
can be classed under the head of trivialities; and 
politeness, which is but another name for general 
amiability, will oil the creaking wheels of life more 
effectually than any of those unguents supplied by 
mere wealth or station." 

" To be truly polite, one must be at once good, just 
and generous," has been well said by a modern 
French writer. 

" True politeness is the outward visible sign of those 
inward spiritual graces called modesty, unselfishness, 
generosity. The manners of a gentleman are the 
index of his soul. His speech is innocent, because 
his life is pure; his thoughts are direct, because his 
actions are upright; his bearing is gentle, because his 
blood, and his impulses, and his training are gentle 
also. A true gentleman is entirely free from every 
kind of pretence. He avoids homage instead of ex 
acting it. Mere ceremonies have no attraction for 
him. He seeks not only to say civil things, but to do 
them. His hospitality, though hearty and sincere, 
will be strictly regulated by his means. His friends 
will be chosen for their good qualities and good man- 
ners; his servants for their thoughtfuiness and honesty; 
his occupations for their usefulness, or their graceful- 



INTRODUCTIONS. 357 

ness, or their elevating tendencies, whether moral, or 
mental, or political. And so we come round again to 
our first maxims, i. e.> that i good manners are the 
kindly fruit of a refined nature.' " 

The most perfect law of politeness, the safest and 
surest guide in all that pertains to the true definition 
of a gentleman or lady is, after all, the Christian rule, 
w Do unto others as you would others should do unto 
you." 

No one with this for a guide can ever fail in true, 
genuine politeness, and that politeness will soon lead 
him to learn and remember all the prevailing rules of 
established etiquette. 




INTRODUCTIONS. 

^EVER introduce people to each other unless 
you are sure the acquaintance so commenced 
will be mutually agreeable. 
When introducing two gentlemen, look first to the 
elder, or, if there is any difference in social standing, 
to the superior, and, with a slight bow, say to him: 
"Allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Jones, to 
you; " then turning to your friend, repeat his name, 
and follow it by that of the gentleman to whom he is 
introduced, thus: " Mr. Smith, allow me to introduce 



358 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

my friend, Mr. Jones, to you — Mr. Jones, Mr. Smith." 
In introducing a gentleman to a lady, bow slightly to 

the latter, saying, " Miss , allow me to introduce 

Mr. — ; Mr. (bowing to him), Miss ." 

When several persons are introduced to one, it is 
sufficient to name the single individual once, repeat- 
ing all the names of the others thus: " Mr. Johnson, 
allow me to introduce Mr. and Mrs. James, Miss 
Smithson, Mr. Lewis, Mr. Johnson," bowing slightly 
to each when named. 

Shaking hands after an introduction has taken 
place is merely optional, not necessary; and is for- 
bidden to an unmarried lady to whom a gentleman is 
introduced. A bow is all that etiquette requires. In 
introducing young persons to elder one* of good social 
standing, it is often a kindly act of encouragement 
for the latter to shake hands, with a few cordial 
words. 

Should you, when walking with a friend, meet a lady 
who desires to speak to you, your friend must stop 
with you, yet an introduction under such circumstances 
does not exact any future recognition. 

If friends meet at public places of amusement 2nd 
are accompanied by strangers, introductions are not 
required by etiquette, and if made do not oblige any 
future acquaintance. 



LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION. 359 

If at a dinner, a ball, or upon any occasion you are 
introduced, at a friend's house, to one with whom you 
are not on good terms, though it be your bitterest 
enemy, etiquette requires you to salute him or her 
courteously, and make no sign of resentment whilst 
under your friend's roof. 

To introduce to a friend a person who is in any 
way objectionable, is an insult which fully justifies a 
withdrawal of friendship. 

A gentleman should always raise his hat, if intro- 
duced in the street, to either lady or gentleman. 



LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION. 

fETTERS of introduction should never be given, 
except to persons well known to the person 
introducing them, and addressed to those 
only who have a long-standing friendship for the 
writer. 

Even amongst friends of long standing they should 
be given very cautiously and sparingly, as it is a great 
responsibility to send to your friend a visitor who may 
prove disagreeable, and you have no right whatever to 
call upon comparative strangers to extend hospitality 
or courtesy to your friends. 



360 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

Letters of introduction should always be as short 
and concise as possible. If you wish to send any in- 
formation to your friends about their visitor, send it 
in a separate letter by mail. 

The utmost brevity is of importance in the letter of 
introduction, as it is usually read in the presence of 
the party introduced, and the pause must necessarily 
be awkward. 

Letters of introduction must be left unsealed inva- 
riably; they should be folded and addressed like any 
other letter, but it is a gross breach of etiquette to 
prevent the bearer from reading what you may have 
said of him to your friend. 

A letter of introduction should not be delivered in 
person. It should be sent, with the card of the per- 
son introduced, to the person to whom it is addressed, 
by a servant. The person receiving it should then 
call at once or send a written invitation to his 
house, and the person introduced may then call in 
person. 

Letters of introduction soliciting favors should be 
but seldom given, and never unless the claims upon 
both parties interested are very strong. 

Letters of introduction to and from business men, 
for business purposes, may be delivered by the bearers 
in person, and etiquette does not require the receiver 



SALUTES AND SALUTATIONS. 361 

to entertain the person introduced as the private friend 
of the writer. 

Letters of introduction are very useful to travelers, 
or those about to change their place of residence; 
care, however, should be especially taken in the latter 
case to present persons to each other only, who will 
prove mutually agreeable, as it is surely no friendly 
act to force upon your friends a life-long acquaintance, 
perhaps with uncongenial persons. 

In traveling abroad it is impossible to have too 
many letters of introduction. They take up but little 
room in a trunk, but their value when you find your- 
self " a stranger in a strange land," cannot be over- 
estimated. 




SALUTES AND SALUTATIONS. 

"EN in this country acknowledge an introduc- 
tion by extending the right hand in greeting 
— the whole hand — for it is positively in- 
sulting to offer two fingers, as some under-bred snobs 
will sometimes do, and it is almost as bad to extend 
the left hand, unless two persons are introduced at the 
same time, or the right hand is useless or occupied; 
in any such case apologize for the hand extended. 
In offering the hand to a friend in the house, always 



362 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

remove the glove, and grasp the hand given in return 
firmly for a moment. In the street, however, the glove 
may be retain ed, if it would cause an awkward pause 
to remove it; but always in such a case apologize for 
the covered hand. 

In shaking hands, do not try to wring them off the 
wrists, nor press them as in a vise, nor pull them as 
though they were bell-handles, nor fling the two 
together with violence, so as to cause a report. Let 
the palms grasp each other firmly, but without any 
display of energy, and shake the hand moderately for 
a moment, then release it. 

If a gentleman meet a gentleman, he may salute 
him by touching his hat without removing it, but if a 
lady be with either gentleman, both hats must be lifted 
in salutation. 

A gentleman may bow to a lady seated at a window, 
if he is passing on the street, but he must not bow 
from a window to a lady on the street. 

A gentleman may never offer to shake hands with a 
lady, but he must accept such an offer on her part, 
taking her hand lightly but firmly in his ungloved 
right one, and delicately shaking it for a moment. 

In entering a church, a gentleman must remove his 
hat as soon as his foot crosses the threshold of the 
sacred edifice. 



SALUTES AND SALUTATIONS. 363 

A gentleman may always bow to a lady he may meet 
on a stairway, even if not acquainted. If at the foot 
of the stairs, he must bow, pass her and ascend before 
her. If at the head of the stairs, he must bow, and 
wait for her to precede him in the descent. 

In entering a room, a gentleman must take his hat, 
cane and gloves in his left hand, leaving his right hand 
free for salutation. 

If a gentleman, walking with a friend, meets a lady 
with whom his friend is acquainted, he must also bow, 
although the lady may be a stranger to him. 

A gentleman must always return a bow made to him 
in the street, even if he fails to recognize the person 
who makes it. It may be a person to whom he has 
been introduced, but whose face he has forgotten, and 
if it is an error on the part of the other, a courteous 
return of the salute will greatly diminish the embar- 
rassment of the mistaken party. 

In meeting a party of friends, with some of whom 
you are intimately acquainted, and with some only 
slightly, endeavor to make your salutations as equal as 
possible. 

In meeting at a friend's house, where you are visit- 
ing, a circle who are all entire strangers to you, re- 
member that as mutual friends of the host and hostess 
you are bound, whilst under the same roof, to consider 



364 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

yourselves as acquaintances. No spirit of exclusive 
ness is an apology for a neglect of this, and no shy- 
ness can excuse a withdrawing into a corner, 01 
clinging to one friend alone in such a circle. 



CALLS. 

f TENTLEMEN in society may make morning 
calls upon all the following occasions : 

In answer to a letter of introduction sent to 
him, or to return the call if the letter is personally 
presented. 

In return for any hospitality offered to him when 
visiting another city, if the entertainer visit his own 
place of abode. 

On any occasion when a grief or a joy calls for ex- 
pressions of condolence or congratulation in the circle 
of his friends. 

To greet the safe return of any friend who has been 
abroad, or away from home for any length of time. 

Following any occasion when a lady has accepted 
his services as an escort, a gentleman must call to in- 
quire after the health of his fair charge, and must not 
delay longer than the day after that upon which he 
has escorted the lady. 



CALLS. 365 

After a wedding, at the time appointed for the re- 
ception of friends. 

When visiting in another city, upon any friends 
there, or upon those to whom letters of introduction 
have been given. 

In asking or granting a favor, a call is demanded by 
etiquette. 

Morning calls must never be earlier than noon, 
evening ones never later than nine o'clock. 

A gentleman may never call with a friend upon a 
lady, unless the friend is previously acquainted, or he 
has obtained permission of the lady to introduce 
him. 

In making a formal call, a gentleman must retain 
his hat in his hand. An umbrella or cane may be left 
in the hall, never the hat or gloves. If the call is 
made in the evening, the hat and gloves must be held 
until the host or hostess gives an invitation to lay 
them aside and spend the evening. Strict etiquette 
requires that such an invitation shall not be given, or 
if given, not accepted on the occasion of a first call. 

In making an informal call in the evening, a gentle- 
man may leave hat, gloves, cane and overcoat in the 
hall. 

No gentleman will prolong a call if he finds his 
host or hostess dressed to go out. A brief visit with a 



366 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

promise to repeat it will place his entertainers at 
ease. 

A card used in calling must never have anything 
upon it, but the name and address of the caller. 
Nothing can show a greater ignorance of the customs 
of society than to use a business card for a friendly 
call. A physician may put the prefix Dr. or the pro- 
fessional M. D., upon his card, and an Army or Navy 
officer his rank and branch of service. 

It is in bad taste for a caller to preface his or her 
departure by consulting a watch, remarking, " Now I 
must go," or insinuating that the hostess is weary of 
the visitor. Rise when ready to go, and express your 
pleasure at finding your friends at home, followed by 
a cordially expressed desire for a speedy meeting 
again. 

Pelham said he always withdrew when he said some- 
thing that produced a sensation, because he knew he 
must leave such an impression as would make people 
wish to see him again. 

When other callers arrive, it is in bad taste to rise 
at once as if driven away. Let the first caller watch 
for a favorable opportunity to retire gracefully. 

If a gentleman calling sees a lady unescorted rise 
to go, he may with perfect propriety offer to escort 
her to her carriage, even if a stranger, but he must 



CALLS. 367 

return again to make his own farewell bow to the 
hostess. 

If strangers are in the room when a caller rises tc 
leave, courtesy requires only a slight bow in passing. 

When calling, etiquette requires that a card be sent 
up. It will show that you have called, and if friends 
are at home, will prevent any confusion from mis 
pronunciation of your name by the servant. 

When the lady of the house is not at home, a card 
must be left, and if there are two or more ladies, the 
turning down of one corner of the card signifies that 
the call was intended for all the family. 

If cards to be left preparatory to leaving town, the 
initials p. p. c. {pour prendre conge* or, presents part- 
ing compliments), must be written in the left hand 
corner. If the departure is a hurried one, the card 
may be sent by a servant, but it is in better taste to 
leave it in person. 

Visits of condolence are made within a week after 
the bereavement, unless the deceased be one of the 
immediate family, when a fortnight may be allowed to 
intervene. 

The first call of a stranger must be returned within 
a week. 

Married men are not obliged to make calls of cere- 

* To take leave. 
2o 



368 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

mony m person. It is sufficient for their wives to 
leave their cards with their own. 

Residents in a place make the first call upon any 
new comers. 

It is not necessary, nor is it customary in the city, 
to offer refreshments to callers. In the country, 
especially if the visitors have come from a distance, 
it is not only courteous, but often a positive kindness 
to do so. 

If a stranger come to stay at the house of a friend, 
those who are in the habit of visiting at the house 
should call as soon as possible, and such calls should 
be returned at the earliest practicable opportunity. 

A well-bred person should endeavor to be always 
prepared for callers. Illness alone, either your own, 
or that of some one requiring your constant attention, 
can only excuse you. 

It is ill-bred to enter a drawing-room, with a hand- 
some carpet upon it, in muddy boots and spattered 
garments, to stand a dripping umbrella beside you, or 
deposit over-shoes in the hall. 

Never resume your seat after having once left it to 
say adieu. There is nothing more awkward than to 
take leave twice. 

If you find yourself intruding upon an early dinner 
hour, do not prolong your stay. 



CALLS. 369 

It is a breach of etiquette, during a call, to dra w 
»ear to the fire to warm your hands and feet, unless 
you are invited by the mistress of the house to do so. 
If you are alone in the drawing-room for a time, whiJe 
your visit is announced, and then go to the fire, leav« 
your seat and advance to meet the mistress of the 
house as she enters, and then take the seat she points 
out to you. 

In visiting an invalid, never offer to go to the room, 
but wait for an invitation to do so. 

A gentleman who is a confirmed invalid, may receive 
the visits of a lady friend, but under no other cir- 
cumstances. 

It is a breach of etiquette to remove the gloves 
when making a formal call. 

It is a breach of etiquette for a caller, who is wait- 
ing the entrance of the hostess, to open the piano, or 
to touch it if it is open. 

It is a breach of etiquette to walk round the room 
when waiting for your hostess, examining the furniture 
or pictures. 

It is a breach of etiquette for a caller to open or 
shut a door, raise or lower a window curtain, or in 
any way alter the arrangement of a room. 

It is a breach of etiquette to turn your chair so as 
to bring your back to any one seated near to you. 



370 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

It is a breach of etiquette when making a call, to 
play with any ornament in the room, finger the fur- 
niture, or seem indeed to be aware of anything but 
the company present. 

To prolong a call to the next meal time is a posi- 
tive rudeness, as it forces your hostess to invite you to 
the table whether convenient and agreeable or not. 

In calling upon friends at a boarding-house or a 
hotel, always write their names above your own upoL 
your card, that it may be certain to be delivered to 
the right person. 



CONVERSATION. 

fHERE are several principal rules of etiquette 
which must be rigidly observed in conversa- 
tion, the non-observance of which will at 
once stamp the guilty party as ignorant of the forms 
and customs of polite society. 

The personal pronouns should be used as little as 
possible when speaking of any one, either present or 
absent. The name of the lady or gentleman to whom 
reference is made, should be repeated if necessary, 
but under no circumstances should the words " she " 
or " he," accompanied by a nod or jerk of the thumb, 
in the direction of the person spoken of, be employed. 



CONVERSATION. 371 

Avoid as utterly hateful the use of slang terms. In 
a gentleman, such expressions are too suggestive of 
low company, and intercourse with the worst asso- 
ciates, and in a lady such expressions are 'too offen- 
sive to be tolerated at all in good society. Slang 
never ornamented conversation, but it invariably 
sullies and degrades it. 

Never hold your companion, in a conversation, by 
the button-hole. 

Do not interlard your conversation with scraps of 
foreign language. It is an affectation of knowledge in 
one direction, and a sort of tacit admission of igno- 
rance in another; for it would seem to show that the 
speaker was not well enough acquainted with his own 
language to be able to express by its aid that which 
could really be told as well, perhaps better, by it than 
any other. 

Quotations are to be avoided as much as possible. 
When made, they should be exceedingly short. Short, 
pungent, epigrammatic quotations, if suitable to the 
subject of conversation, may be occasionally intro- 
duced, but their use should be the exception, not the 
rule. 

Dr. Johnson says that in order to converse well, 
" there must, in the first place, be knowledge — there 
must be materials; in the second place, there must be 



372 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR, 

a command of words; in the third place, there must 
be imagination to place things in such views as they 
are not commonly seen in; and in the fourth place, 
there must be a presence of mind, and a resolution 
that is not to be overcome by failure — this last is an 
essential requisite; for want of it many people do not 
excel in conversation." 

To be known as an inveterate teller of stories, is a 
great injury to a man in society. A short, brilliant 
anecdote, that is especially applicable to the conversa- 
tion, known to be new and never printed, is all that a 
well-bred man will ever permit himself to inflict. 

Remarks having, and intended to have, a double 
meaning — even puns — are utterly to be deprecated. 

Political and religious topics are not in good tatfe 
in general conversation. 

To listen with interest and attention is as important 
in polite society as to converse well, and it is in the 
character of listener that the elegant refinement of a 
man accustomed to society will soonest prove itself. 

Avoid as much as possible all egotism; in conversa- 
tion stick closely to Cardinal Wolsey's direction to 
" love thyself last." It is, to say the least of it, un- 
seemly for a man to be constantly making himself the 
subject of conversation. 

There used to be a joke against Lord Erskine, who 



CONVERSATION. 373 

was notably a talker of himself, that the printer, hav- 
ing to print a speech which his lordship had delivered, 
sent word to say that " he was very sorry, but he had 
no more * Fs ' in his founts than would suffice to set 
up half the speech." 

Suitable subjects, for time and place, form an im- 
portant consideration in polite conversation. Grave 
tones and important consideration are not suited for 
the chit-chat of a brief call or a social evening, nor is 
small talk an appropriate introduction, when the meet- 
ings are for the purpose of discussing serious matters 
Let gayety or gravity rule as plaee and occasion de 
mand. 

Gesticulations are in excessively bad taste. If you 
do not wish to attract censorious remark, converse 
quietly and without gesture. 

Refrain from the use of satire, even if you are 
master of the art. It is permissible only as a guard 
against impertinence, or for the purpose of checking 
personalities, or troublesome intrusions. It must never 
be employed by a gentleman against a lady, though 
ladies are prone to indulge in the use of this wordy 
weapon. Their acknowledged position should, in the 
eyes of a true gentleman, shield them from all shafts 
of satire. If they, on the other hand, choose to in- 
dulge in satire, it is the part of a gentleman to remon- 



374 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

strate gently, and if the invective be continued, to 
withdraw. 

Do not attempt to speak with the mouth full. 

Do not, however much you may be pleased with 
any remark, cry out " Bravo ! " clap your hands, or 
permit any gesture, silent or otherwise, to mark your 
appreciation of it. 

If you are flattered, repel it by quiet gravity. Re- 
frain, too, from expressions of flattery to others; you 
will surely offend any hearer who has delicacy of feel- 
ing and refinement. 

If an error in language, either in pronunciation or 
grammar, escapes those with whom you are conversing, 
never show that you notice it. 

In addressing any one and in general conversation, 
it will be well to bear in mind the advice of Polonius 
to his son Laertes: " Be thou familiar, but by no 
means vulgar." In society, a man should make him- 
self as agreeable as he can, doing his best to assist 
conversation, as well by talking gracefully and easily, 
as by listening patiently, even though it be to a twice- 
told tale. 

Do not whistle, loll about, scratch your head, or 
fidget with any portion of your dress while speaking, 
'Tis excessively awkward, and indicative of low-breed- 
ing 



CONVERSATION. 375 

Strictly avoid anything approaching to absence 01 
mind. Lord Chesterfield said: "When I see a man 
absent in mind, I choose to be absent in body." And 
there was really much reason in the remark. 

Whispering is atrocious, and cannot be tolerated. 
Private affairs must be delayed for private interviews. 

Unless you are actually afflicted with deafness, 
never ask to have a sentence repeated. 

Never interrupt a speaker. It is equally rude to 
supply words over which your companion may hesi- 
tate a moment. 

In general conversation avoid argument. If obliged 
to discuss a point, do so with suavity, contradicting, 
if necessary, with extreme courtesy, and if you see no 
prospect of agreement, finishing off with some happy, 
good-natured remark to prove that you are not hurt 
or offended. 

When addressing a person, look in his or her face, 
not staringly, but frankly, never fixing your eyes on the 
carpet or your boots. 

Loud laughing and giggling are in excessively bad 
taste. 

Eschew scandal, for " in scandal as in robbery, the 
receiver is always thought as bad as the thief." 
Mimicry is the lowest and most ill-bred of all buf- 
foonery. 



376 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

Uashfulness is an inconvenient quality, which a grea> 
authority has stated to be " the distinguishing charactei 
of a booby." 

Nicknames are abominable, and are never allowed 
in good society. 

If your friends become the subject of conversation, 
never compare one with another, or mention the vices 
of one to add to the lustre of virtue of the other. 

Do not commence any conversation by the sugges- 
tion of painful or disagreeable topics. To ask a friend 
abruptly, " For whom are you in mourning ? " may be 
tearing open anew a wound that was covered for the 
time by intercourse with society. 

Subjects or incidents calculated to disgust the 
hearers, are to be avoided in polite conversation. 

Do not use surnames alone, even if speaking of in- 
timate friends. 

Let no more than one person be speaking at one 
time. 

If you would preserve a character for truthfulness, 
avoid the too common fault of exaggeration. 

Cant is simply detestable. 

The talented author of " Good Society " says: 

" The great secret of talking well is to adapt your 
conversation as skilfully as may be to your company. 
Some men make a point of talking commonplace to 



CONVERSATION. 377 

all ladies alike, as if a woman could only be a trifler. 
Others, on the contrary, seem to forget in what respects 
the education of a lady differs from that of a gentle- 
man, and commit the opposite error of conversing on 
topics with which ladies are seldom acquainted. A 
woman of sense has as much right to be annoyed by 
the one, as a lady of ordinary education by the other. 
You cannot pay a finer compliment to a woman of 
refinement and esprit, than by leading the conversa- 
tion into such a channel as may mark your apprecia- 
tion of her superior attainments. 

" It should be remembered that people take more 
interest in their own affairs than in anything else 
which you can name. In tete a tete conversations, 
therefore, lead a mother to talk of her children, a 
young lady of her last ball, an author of his forth- 
coming book, or an artist of his exhibition picture. 

" Remember in conversation that a voice * gentle 
and low* is, above all other extraneous accomplish- 
ments, an 'excellent thing in woman.' There is a 
certain distinct but subdued tone of voice which is 
peculiar to persons only of the best breeding. It is 
better to err by the use of too low than by too loud a 
tone. Loud laughter is extremely objectionable in 
society." 

To invariably commence a conversation by remarks 



378 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

on the weather, shows a poverty of ideas that is truly 
pitiable. 

A person who has traveled will probably be severely 
ridiculed if constantly referring to * the winter I spent 
in Florence/' or " when I was in London." 

If conversation takes a tone that is offensive to good 
taste, charity or justice, be silent. 

Be not too ready to correct any statement you may 
deem untrue. You may be yourself mistaken. 

When visiting, be careful that you do not appear to 
undervalue anything around you by comparing it witb 
what you have at home. 




STREET ETIQUETTE. 

HEN a gentleman recognizes a friend in the 
\J\[ course of his walk, he must lift his hat 
with the hand farthest from him. Lifting 
the hat is a sufficient recognition between gentlemen; 
but in meeting a lady, an old gentleman, or a clergy- 
man, it is necessary to bow also. 

No gentleman may smoke when walking with a 
lady. 

To eat anything, even confectionery, in the street, 
is a sign of low breeding. 



STREET ETIQUETTE. 379 

If a gentleman wishes to shake hands with a friend, 
he must lift his hat with the left hand, leaving the 
right free to extend. Never must he give his left 
hand, or extend a portion of the right. The whole 
right hand is en regie. 

If a gentleman is walking with a lady, he should 
insist upon carrying any book, parcel, or umbrella she 
may have with her. 

Swinging the arms is an awkward and ill-bred 
habit. 

To attempt to cross the street between the carriages 
of a funeral procession is rude and disrespectful; and 
we cannot but commend the foreign custom of remov- 
ing the hat, and standing in a respectful attitude until 
the melancholy train has passed. 

When a gentleman is walking alone, he must always 
turn aside to give the upper side of the pavement to a 
lady, to any one carrying a heavy load, to a clergy- 
man, or to an old gentleman. 

Never push violently through a crowd. If a gentle- 
man or lady is really in haste, a few courteous words 
will open a passage more quickly than the most vigor- 
ous pushing or shoving. 

If a gentleman and lady are obliged to cross a nar- 
row walk, plank, or slippery place, the lady may go 
first, and the gentleman walk close behind her, to aid 



380 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

her it needful. If the place is short, then the gentle- 
man should go first, and then offer his hand to assist 
the lady across. If a gentleman meet a lady or old 
gentleman at such a crossing, he may, with perfecl 
propriety, assist them in crossing, even if perfecl 
strangers to him. 

A gentleman must hold his hat in his hand if he 
stops to inquire his own way, or to direct another. 

If a gentleman sees a lady alone hesitating at a bad 
crossing, or leaving a carriage at an awkward place, 
he may offer his hand to assist her in crossing 01 
alighting, raise his hat, bow, and pass on. A lady may, 
with perfect propriety, accept such assistance from a 
stranger, thanking him, and returning his bow. 

If a lady leaves an omnibus or car alone, the gentle- 
man nearest the door should alight, assist her out, and 
enter the omnibus again. 

Gentlemen should always pass up the fare of ladies 
in an omnibus. 

In a public conveyance, a gentleman should offer 
his seat to any lady who is standing. 

Loud talking and laughing in the street are sure 
signs of vulgarity. 

Never look back after any one passing it" is ex- 
tremely ill-bred. 

Staring is a mark of low breeding. 



STREET ETIQUETTE. 381 

Whispering in a public conveyance is excessively 
tride. 

Never call out loudly to an acquaintance who may 
be passing. 

Young persons, meeting elderly friends in the street, 
should wait for a recognition before speaking, and 
then bow respectfully. To nod carelessly at an old 
person is rude, if not actually insulting. 

If you meet two gentlemen in the street, and wish 
to speak to one of them, apologize to the other, and 
make the detention as brief as possible. 

A gentleman walking with a lady, should endeavor 
to accommodate his steps to hers, not force her to 
Stride along or trot with short steps for his long ones 

Lounging over a counter is ill-bred. 

Putting your elbows on a counter is rude. 

Pushing aside another person is an act of ill-breed 
ing. 

A gentleman walking with two ladies may offer an 
arm to each of them, and they may thus sandwich 
him if they wish. 

If a gentleman is walking with two ladies in a rain- 
storm, and there is but one umbrella, he should give 
it to his companions and walk outside. Nothing can 
be more absurd than to see a gentleman walking 
between two ladies holding an umbrella, which 



382 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

perfectly protects himself, and sends little streams of 
water from every point on the dresses of the ladies 
he is supposed to be sheltering. 

It is in bad taste to talk of personal matters in the 
street, or to call loudly the names of persons you may 
mention. It is impossible to say who may be near to 
you. To discuss friends by name in a public convey- 
ance of any kind is rude in the extreme. 

If you meet a friend with whom you wish to shake 
hands, never put out your own until you are quite 
near, as nothing looks more awkward than hands ex- 
tended to grasp each other two or three yards apart. 

Never turn a corner at full speed, or you may find 
yourself knocked down or knocking down another by 
the violent contact. 

Never talk politics or religion in a public con- 
veyance. 

Never stop to quarrel with a hack-driver. Pay his 
fare and dismiss him; if you have any complaint to 
make, take his number, and make it to the proper 
authorities. To keep a lady standing while you are 
disputing with a hack-man is extremely rude. 

It is a sign of ill-breeding to change your seat in a 
car or omnibus. If you are unfortunate enough to 
have a neighbor who is positively annoying and un- 
endurable, it is better to get out and take the next 



TRAVELING. 383 

conveyance than to move to the other side. A gen- 
tleman may move from a crowded side to one left 
comparatively vacant. 




TRAVELING. 

''HERE are many little points of etiquette and 
courteous observances which, if attended to, 
serve very materially to lighten the tedium 
and fatigue of travel, the non-observance of the r m 
being attended with proportionally disagreeable effects. 
No situation can be named where the difference be- 
tween the well-bred and ill-bred of either sex is more 
marked than when they are upon a journey; and in 
this country, where all classes are thrown into contact 
in the various public conveyances, the annoyance of 
rude company can scarcely be exaggerated. 

A gentleman, on entering a public carriage or omni- 
bus, must never step before a lady, but stand aside 
until she enters, raising the hat slightly if she acknowl- 
edges his courtesy, as a true lady will, by a bow. He 
may offer to assist her if she appears to need it, even 
if she is a perfect stranger to him. 

If a gentleman consents to act as escort to a lady, 
he must carefully fulfill all the requirements of that 
rather arduous position. If she meets him at a wharf 

21 



384 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

or depot, he must be a little before the hour for start- 
ing, to procure her ticket, check her baggage, and se- 
cure for her a pleasant seat. He must never leave her 
to stand in an office or upon a wharf whilst he attends 
to her tickets and baggage; but, having seen her com- 
fortably seated in a ladies' room or cabin, return for 
those duties. In arriving at a station, he must see her 
seated in a hack before he attends to the trunks. 

In a hotel, the gentleman must escort the lady to the 
parlor before securing her room, but not detain her 
afterwards. However agreeable she may be, he may 
be certain she is longing to rest after her journey, and 
remove the travel stains from her face and dress. He 
must at once escort her to her room, ascertain what 
hour it will be agreeable for her to take the next meal, 
and meet her again in the parlor at that hour. 

" Comparisons are odious/' and to be continually 
asserting that everything in the United States is vastly 
superior to everything abroad is a mark of vulgarity. 
If you really think there is nothing to be seen abroad 
as good as you have at home, why, you are foolish 
not to stay at home and enjoy the best. 

If a train stop for refreshments, a gentleman may, 
with perfect propriety, offer to escort a strange lady, 
who is alone, to the refreshment-room, or to bring to 
her any refreshments she may desire. If she accepts 



ETIQUETTE IN CHURCH. 385 

his offer, he must see that she is served with all that 
she desires before attending to his own wants. 

Smoking in the presence of ladies is uncourteous, 
even if there is no law against it in the car, stage, or 
boat. 

As regards the right to have the window up or (Jown, 
the person who sits facing the engine has the com- 
mand. Ladies, being present, should, of course, be 
consulted, no matter on which side they may be sit- 
ting, and their wish must be considered a final settle- 
ment of the question. 

A gentleman who is traveling alone may offer little 
courtesies to strangers, and even to ladies, carefully 
maintaining a respectful manner, that may assure them 
they need not fear to encourage impertinence by 
accepting the proferred civilities. 



ETIQUETTE IN CHURCH. 

"N visiting a church in which you have no pew of 
your own, wait in the vestibule until the sexton 
comes to you, and request him to show you to 
a seat. It is extremely rude to enter a pew without 
invitation if it is partially filled, or without permission 
if it is empty. 



386 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

Always enter a church slowly and reverentially. A 
gentleman must remove his hat at the door, and never 
replace it until he is again in the vestibule. 

Conform strictly to the forms of worship. If you 
are not familiar with them, rise, kneel, and sit as you 
see others do. 

Never whisper to a companion in church. 

Never bow to any friend while in the church itself. 
Greetings may be exchanged in the vestibule after 
service. 

Gentlemen must pass up the aisle beside their lady 
companions until they reach the pew, then advance a 
few steps, open the door, and stand aside until she has 
entered, then enter, and close the door again. 

Never pay any attention to those around you, even 
if they are noisy or rude. 

If you pass a book or a fan to a person in the same 
pew, or accept the same attention, it is not necessary 
to speak. A silent bow is all that etiquette requires. 

If you have room in your own pew, and see a 
stranger enter, open the door and motion him to 
enter. 

You may find the place and point it out to a 
stranger, who is unfamiliar with the service ; but do so 
silently. 

To come late to church is not only ill-bred, but 



ETIQUETTE FOR PLACES OF AMUSEMENT. 387 

disrespectful. It is equally so to hurry away, or to 
commence preparations for departure, closing and 
putting away the books, and such preparations, before 
the service closes. 

Never keep any one waiting if you are invited or 
have invited them to go to church. 

It is ill-bred for gentlemen to congregate in the 
vestibule of a church and there chat familiarly, often 
commenting audibly upon the service or the con- 
gregation. 

To show any disrespect to a form of worship that 
may be new or strange to you is rude in the extreme. 
To sneer at a form, while in the church using that 
form, is insulting and low bred. 



ETIQUETTE FOR PLACES OF AMUSE- 
MENT. 

GENTLEMAN who wishes to invite a young 
lady, who is not related to him, to visit any 
place of public amusement with him, must, 
the first time that he invites her, also invite another 
lady of the same family to accompany her. 

It is a gentleman's duty to invite a lady long enough 
before the evening of the performance to be certain 




388 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR, 

of securing pleasant seats, as it is but a poor compli- 
ment to take her where she will be uncomfortable, or 
where she can neither hear nor see. 

Never assume an air of secrecy or mystery in a 
public place; and even if you have the right to do so, 
assume no lover-like airs. It is rude to converse 
loudly, especially during the performance; but a low 
tone is all that is necessary; not a whisper. 

To appear to comment aside upon those near you is 
extremely ill-bred. 

It is ill-bred to arrive late at any public entertain- 
ment, and looks as if you were not sufficiently master 
of your own time to be punctual. 

In a theater, give your attention entirely to the stage 
when the curtain is up; to your companion when it is 
down. 

If you speak to your companion during the perform- 
ance, do so in a low tone, that you may not disturb 
those who are near you, and wish to hear the actors. 

In entering a concert-room or the box of a theater, 
a gentleman should precede a lady, if there is not 
room to walk beside her, until they reach the seats, 
then hand her to the inner one, taking the outside one 
himself. In going out, if he cannot offer her his arm, 
he must again walk before her, until he reaches the 
lobby, and then offer her his arm. 



TABLE ETIQUETTE. 389 

Boisterous applause and loud laughter are un- 
g»»ntlemanly. 

It is bad taste to distract your companion's interest 
from the performance, even if you find it dull yourself. 

No gentleman should leave a lady alone for a mo- 
ment in a public place of amusement. 

In a picture-gallery, never stand conversing before 
the paintings in such a way as to interrupt the view of 
others. If you wish to converse, stand aside or take 
seats and do so. 

It is an act of rudeness to join any party about to 
visit a place of amusement, or at one, unless urgently 
invited, and no one of taste will ever form a third. 

Always enter a concert-hall or lecture-room as 
quietly as possible. 

Never push violently through a crowd at a public 
place. 



TABLE ETIQUETTE. 

T is impossible for a gentleman to act with per- 
fect ease and graceful manner at table when in 
company, at a hotel or any public place, unless 
he habitually pay attention to those minor points of 
etiquette, which form so distinctive a mark of per- 
fectly good breeding. 



390 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

Even when a person habitually eats alone, it is bet- 
ter to do so gracefully and with attention to the rules 
of etiquette, that habits of awkwardness may not be 
formed which it will be difficult to shake off when in 
company. 

To make noises when eating, sucking soup with a 
gurgling sound, chewing meat noisily, swallowing as if 
with an effort, smacking the lips, or breathing heavily 
while masticating food, are all marks of low breed- 
ing. 

It is a bad habit to put large pieces of food into the 
mouth. If you are addressed suddenly with your 
mouth so filled, you are obliged to make an awkward 
pause before answering, or to run the risk of choking 
by swallowing the great mouthful too hastily. 

Sit neither very near nor very far from the table. 

To lean back in the chair is rude, and surely no 
gentleman would ever be guilty of tipping his chair at 
table. Sit erect, not stiffly, but in an easy position. 

Bread must always be broken, never cut, and cer- 
tainly never bitten. 

To eat very fast is inelegant; to eat very slowly 
bears an air of affectation. 

A gentleman will always see that ladies are served 
before eating himself. 

It is against all rules of etiquette to soak up gravy 



TABLE ETIQUETTE. 391 

with bread, to scrape up sauce with a spoon, or to 
take up bones with the fingers. 

Never cross the knife and fork on a plate until you 
have finished eating. 

Never hold your knife and fork erect in your hands 
at each side of your plate, when conversing at the 
table. 

To blow soup to cool it, or to pour tea or coffee 
into a saucer for the same purpose, are acts of awkward- 
ness never seen in polite society. Wait until they are 
cool enough to be pleasant. 

Use the salt-spoon, butter-knife, and sugar-tongs 
even when you are alone. 

If you want to cough, sneeze, or blow your nose, 
leave the table. If you have not time, turn away your 
head, and lean back in your chair. 

To pass a plate with a knife or fork upon it, or a cup 
with a spoon in it, are acts of rudeness. Put your 
spoon in the saucer, and your knife and fork on the 
table, until you are served. 

Never hurry away from the table as soon as you 
finish eating, if others remain to converse. If you are 
obliged to leave before a meal is finished or imme- 
diately after, ask to be excused for so doing, and 
apologize for the necessity. 

At home, if you use a napkin-ring, fold your napkin 



392 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

and replace it in the ring when you have done with it. 
If you are dining out, never fold your napkin, but 
place it beside your plate. 

None but a clown would use the table-cloth for a 
napkin, pick his teeth with his fork, put his fingers in 
his plate, or wipe his face with his napkin. 

If you are unfortunate enough to find anything dis- 
gusting in your food — a hair in the soup, a coal in the 
bread, a worm in the fruit, or a fly in your coffee — do 
not loudly exclaim, or disturb the appetite of others 
by mention of your mishap. Remove the disgusting 
object quietly, oa change your cup or plate without 
remark. 




THE GENTLEMAN'S TOILET. 

^HE first requisite of a gentleman's toilet is un- 
doubtedly the bath, which should be as brac- 
ing as the constitution will allow, and used 
morning and evening in summer, and every day in 
winter. Only physiques of finest quality can endure, 
much more benefit by, a cold-water shock all the year 
round ; and though physique is always improvable, 
great reformation must not be attempted rashly. Let 
the bath of from sixty to seventy degrees be freely 
indulged in by the strong, and even by the less robust, 



THE GENTLEMAN'S TOILET. 393 

in summer time ; but in winter a temperature varying 
from eighty-five to ninety-five degrees is the safest. 
The flesh-brush should be vigorously applied to all 
parts of the body, after which the skin must be care- 
fully dried with Turkish or huck-a-back towels. 

The next thing to be done is to clean the teeth. 
This should be done with a good hard tooth-brush at 
least twice a day. Smokers should rinse the mouth 
immediately after smoking, and should be careful to 
keep the teeth scrupulously clean. The nails should 
also be kept exquisitely clean and short. Long nails 
are an abomination. 

Our advice to those who shave is, like Punch's 
advice to those about to marry — " Don't." But it 
must by no means be understood that suffering the 
beard to grow is a process that obviates all trouble. 
The beard should be carefully and frequently washed, 
well trimmed, and well combed, and the hair and 
whiskers kept scrupulously clean by the help of clean, 
stiff hair-brushes, and soap and warm water. The 
style of the beard should be adapted to the form of 
the face; but any affectation in the cut of the beard 
and whiskers is very objectionable, and augurs unmiti- 
gated vanity in the wearer. Long hair is never in- 
dulged in except by painters and fiddlers. 

Beau Brummell spent two hours in dressing; but a 



394 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

gentleman can perform all the duties of his toilet to 
perfection in less than half that time. 

A gentleman should always be so well dressed that 
his dress shall never be remarked at all. Does this 
sound like an enigma ? It is not meant for one. It 
only implies that perfect simplicity is perfect elegance, 
and that the true test of dress in the toilet of a gentle- 
man is its entire harmony, unobtrusiveness, and be- 
comingness. 

A man whose dress is appropriate, neat and clean, 
will always look like a gentleman; but to dress appro- 
priately, one must have a varied wardrobe. This 
should not, on the average, cost more than a tenth 
part of his income. No man can afford more than a 
tenth of his income for dress. 

The author of " Pelham " has aptly said that " a 
gentleman's coat should not fit too well." To be fit- 
ted too well is to look.like a tailor's dummy. 

For evening parties, dinner parties and balls, wear 
a black dress coat, black trousers, black silk or cloth 
vest, thin patent-leather boots, a white cravat, and 
white kid gloves. Abjure all fopperies, such as white 
silk linings, silk collars, etc.; above all, the shirt-front 
should be plain. At small, unceremonious parties, 
gloves are not necessary; but, when worn, they should 
be new and fit well. A man's jewelry should be of 



THE GENTLEMAN'S TOILET. 395 

the best and simplest description. False jewelry, like 
every other form of falsehood and pretence, is un- 
mitigated vulgarity. 

Elaborate studs and sleeve-links are all foppish and 
vulgar. A set of good studs, a gold watch and guard, 
and one handsome ring, are as many ornaments as a 
gentleman can wear with propriety. 

Lastly, a man's jewelry should always have some 
use, and not like a lady's, be worn for ornament only. 

Colored shirts may be worn in the morning; but 
they should be small in pattern and quiet in color. 
Fancy cloths of conspicuous patterns are exceedingly 
objectionable. The hat should always be black; and 
caps and straw hats are only admissible in summer. 

A man's clothes should always be well brushed, and 
never threadbare or shabby. No gentleman can afford 
to wear shabby clothes. 

For the country, or the foreign tour, a gentleman 
will select a costume of some light woolen material, 
flannel shirts, thick boots, and everything to corre- 
spond. 

There are three things one should consult in the 
matter of dress if one would always appear like a 
gentleman — viz., expense, comfort, and society. If 
there is one thing in this world about which we can 
entertain any degree of moral certainty, it is that we 



396 RULES FOR J5H.HAVIOR. 

must pay our tailor's bills. If, therefore, our meam 
are disproportionate to our wants, we must remember 
the old proverb, " Cut your coat according to your 
cloth," and dress as well as you possibly can upon 
little money. 




MISCELLANEOUS. 

GENTLEMAN must always hand a lady a 
chair, open the door for her to pass in or 
out, remove anything that may be in her way, 
and pick up anything she may drop, even if she is an 
entire stranger to him. 

A gentleman will never look over the shoulder of 
another who is either reading or writing. 

No gentleman will ever be guilty of personality in 
conversation. No wit, however keen; no sarcasm, 
however humorous, can make personal remarks any- 
thing but rude and vulgar. 

A gentleman, in passing a lady where he must stand 
aside to give her space, must always remove his hat, 
and incline his head slightly. 

It is a mark of low breeding to fidget either with the . 
hands or feet; to play with the watch-chain, toss the 
gloves, suck the head of a cane or handle of a para- 
sol, or to fuss with a collar or necktie. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 397 

To swing the foot, or tap monotonously with the 
feet, to drum with the fingers on a table or window, 
are all breaches of etiquette. 

It is ill-bred to speak of persons with whom you are 
but slightly acquainted, by their first name. 

Mysterious allusions are rude. 

Flattery is a breach of etiquette. Johnson says: 
" Of all wild beasts, preserve me from a tyrant; and 
of all tame, a flatterer." 

No gentleman may ever break an engagement, 
whether it be one of business or pleasure, with a lady, 
or with another gentleman. To break an engagement 
with a lady is almost certain to give lasting offence, 
and with good cause. 

Irritability is a breach of good manners. Watts 
says: " To be angry about trifles is mean and childish; 
to rage and be furious is brutish; and to maintain per- 
petual wrath is akin to the practice and temper of 
fiends; but to prevent and suppress rising resentment 
is wise and glorious, is manly and divine." 

Nothing marks a gentleman more truly than a strict 
punctuality. To keep another waiting is a breach of 
etiquette, as well as often a positive unkindness. 

To answer a civil question rudely, or even impa 
tiently, is a gross breach of etiquette. Even if it in- 
conveniences you or interrupts you, it will take no 



398 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR, 

longer to answer kindly or politely than to wound or 
offend by crustiness. 

No gentleman may ever refuse an apology. No 
matter how great the offence, how deep the resent- 
ment, an apology can never be rejected. It may not 
again revive friendship; but it must prevent quarrel- 
ing. 

An invalid, an elderly person, or a lady, must be 
given the most comfortable chair in the room, must be 
allowed to select the light and temperature, and no 
true lady or gentleman will ever object to the exercise 
of the privilege. 

To assume a lazy, lounging attitude in company is 
unmannerly. If any one is too weak or too ill to sit 
up and assume a proper position, he had better stay 
at home until he is stronger or in better health. 

Never rise to take leave in the midst of an interest- 
ing conversation; wait until there is a pause, and then 
withdraw, with as little disturbance as possible. 

It is proper, before taking a place at table, to say 
" Good morning," or " Good evening/' to those in the 
room before you, and especially to those who preside 
over the meal. 

It is a breach of etiquette to go into company with 
the breath tainted by eating onions, garlic, cheese, or 
any other strong-scented food. 



MISCELLANEOUS, 399 

It is a breach of etiquette for a gentleman to enter 
a lady's presence smelling of tobacco or wine. 

To notice, by look or word, any deformity, any scar 
or misfortune to the face or figure of a friend, is not 
only a breach of etiquette of the grossest kind, but is 
a want of humanity and good feeling as well. 

It is a breach of etiquette to lean heavily upon a 
table; and also to tip a chair to and fro when you are 
talking; and you will be justly punished if you find 
yourself sprawling on the floor with the chair on top 
of you. 

The man who will insult his inferiors is a boor at 
heart, however polished he may appear amongst his 
equals, or however deferential to his superiors. 

To imitate the manners, voice, attitude, or gestures 
of great men were a folly almost too absurd to men- 
tion if it were not so common. Many persons, from a 
real or fancied personal resemblance to some celebrity, 
will ape their manners also, as if mere appearance 
would make them equally distinguished. 

" The scholar, without good breeding, is a pedant; 
the philosopher, a cynic; the soldier, a brute; and 
every man disagreeable," says Chesterfield. 

Bishop Beveridge says: "Never speak of a man's 
virtues before his face, nor of his faults behind his 
back." 



400 RULES FOR BEHAVIOR. 

" In private, watch your thoughts; in your family, 
watch your temper; in society, watch your tongue." 

" To arrive at the heart of true courtesy," says a 
modern writer, " separate the old English titles for the 
well-bred; they were the gentle-man and gentle- 
woman." 

It is better to live alone than in low company. If 
you cannot keep good company, keep none. 

Sterne thus defines courtship: " True courtship con- 
sists in a number of quiet, gentlemanly attentions; 
not so pointed as to alarm, not so vague as to be mis- 
understood." 

It is a breach of etiquette to enter a room noisily, 
slamming the door, or stamping heavily upon the 
floor. 

Spitting is as vulgar as it is disgusting. 

It is ill-bred to refuse the last piece on the plate or 
dish, if it is offered to you, as it implies a fear that 
there is no more in the pantry. 

To yawn, blow the nose loudly, suck or pick the 
teeth, or clean the nails in company, are breaches of 
etiquette. 

Gentlemen should never stand upon the hearthrug 
with their backs to the fire, either in a friend's house 
or their own. 



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